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EXERCISES 



'22 h 



ELOCUTION, 



i^5> 



EXEMPLIFYING 



THE RULES AND PRINCIPLES 



ART OF READING. 



By WILLIAM RUSSELL, 

ED. AM. JOURNAL OF EDUCATION, (FIRST SERIES,) AUTHOR OF LES- 
SONS IN ENUNCIATION, AND RUDIMENTS OF GESTURE. 



BOSTON : 

JENKS AND PALMER. 

1841. 



o 



A 



\ • * *. • 



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^ 



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Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1841, 

BY WILLIAM RUSSELL, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 
Advertisement, ....... 9 

Introduction, ....... 11 

Use of Rules in teaching Elocution, Order of Instruction, 11, 12 
Inflections, Emphasis, Pauses, Modulation, Cadence, 
Metre, 13-15 

Chapter I. — Inflection. . . . . .17 

General Observations on Inflection, Importance of, . ib.: 

New-England Accent, . . . . . .18 

Definition, Rising and Falling Inflections, ... 19 
Empassioned and Unempassioned '« . . .20 

Circumflex — Rising and Falling; Monotone, . 21, 22 

Rules — Falling Inflection, Rule I. (Emotion,) . , ib. 
Examples — Calling and Shouting, Abrupt Exclamation, 
Imperious Command, Indignant i\ddress, Challenge and 
Defiance, Swearing and Adjuration, Imprecation, Accusa- 
tion, Assertion, Assurance, Threatning, Warning, Denial, 
Contradiction, Refusal, Appeal, Remonstrance, Earnest In- 
treaty, Exhortation, Earnest Invitation, Temperate Com- 
mand, Admiration, Adoration, .... 23-25 



IV CONTENTS. 

Falling Inflection, Rule II. (Force of Thought,) Rule III. 
(Forcible Interrogation,) . . . . , 25, 26 

Rule IV. (Complete Thought,) Exception ^ (Pathos,) 27, 28 

Application to Series, Concluding Series, Exception, 29 

*« Answer, Antithesis, ... 30 

Rising Inflection, Rule I. (Expectation,) Suspension, 

Connexion, . . . . . . . . 31, 32 

Question, Surprise, Address, Request, Petition, Apos- 
trophe, Antithesis, Condition, Concession, Comparison, 
Connexion, Introductory Phrase, Series, . . . 33-35 

Exceptions — Emphatic Expression in Interrogation, 
Distinction, Condition, Connexion, Introductory Phrase, 
Series, Surprise, Address, Interrogation, . . 35, 36 

Rule II. (Pathos,) Exception, (Excessive Grief,) 
Rule III. (Poetic De?;cription,) Exception, (Forcible De- 
scription,) Rule IV. (Penultimate Clause,) Example, Ex- 
ception, . . . . . . . . 37, 38 

Parenthesis, Examples, Exception ; Circumflex, Ex- 
amples, Irony, &c. 39, 40 

Monotone, Examples, Reverence, Awe, Horror, 
Amazement, &c. . . . . . . .41 

Errors in Inflection, Uniform Rising and Falling, &c. 42-44 
Suggestions for Practice on Inflections, . . 45-47 

Theory of Inflection, Dr. Rush, Walker, Knowles, Dr. 
Porter, ..... .... 48 

Principles of Inflection, 49 

Walker's Rules on Series, . . . . 50, 51 

Exercises on Inflection — Table of Contrasted Inflections, 51, 52 
'« «« Falling " Rule T. Calling, Shouting, In- 
di^niant Address, Challenge, Defiance, Swearing, Accusa- 
tion, Assertion, &c., Threatning, Warning, Denial, &c. 



CONTENTS. V 

Earnest Intreaty, Appeal, &c., Exhortation, &c., Admira- 
tion and Adoration, ...... 53-60 

Rules II., III., IV., Complete Thought in Sentences, 
ia Clauses, Exceptions in Poetry; Concluding Series, Ex- 
ceptions; Answer, Antithesis, .... 61-65 

Exercises on Rising Inflection, Rule I. — (Questions, 
Antithesis, Condition, &c.. Exceptions; Comparison, Excep- 
ception; Connexion, Exception; Introductory Phrase, Ex- 
ception; Commencing Series, . . . • . . 66-71 

Chap. II. — Emphasis, . . . . . . 72 

General Observations, Nature and Effect of Emphasis, , 73 
Definition, Emphasis expressed by Accent, Absolute, 

Relative, Correspondent, Antithetic, Single, Double, Triple; 

Emphatic Phrase, ...... 73-75 

Rule, 76 

Errors, Omission, Slighting, Excess, Local Emphasis of 

New-England, 76, 77 

Suggestions for Practice, ..... 77-79 
Exercises on Emphasis, Absolute, Relative, &c. . 79-82 

Chap. III. — Pauses, 83 

General Observations, Nature and Effect of Rhetorical 
Pausing, 83, 84 

Definition, , . , . , . . 85 

Rhetorical Pauses not regulated by grammatical punc- 
tuation; Vocal Pauses the result of Emphasis, Illustration; 
Meaning and the ear, the true guides to Pausing, . 85-88 

Rule I., Rhetorical Pause before a «« finite " Verb, In- 
tervening Phrase, Transposition, Adjectives, Pronouns, Con- 
junctions, &c.. Ellipsis, ..... 88-92 

Rule II., (Paragraph Pause,) 92 



VI CONTENTS. 

Errors, 92 

Suggestions for Practice, 93, 94 

Chap. IV. — ^^roNEs and Modulation, ... 95 
General Observations, Tone in Poetry and in Prose, . ib. 
Definitions, Single and Successive Tones illustrated, . 96 
Analysis of Single Tones, Force, Pitch, Rate; Classi- 
fication of Tones, Examples, ..... 96-99 

Successive Tones, or Variation, Standard of, Modula- 
tion, Transition, Rate; Examples in Poetry and in Prose, 
Explanations, . . . . . . . 100-110 

Errors, Sameness, Feebleness, Violence, Habitual 

Tone, &c 111,112 

Rules I.— VI., 113, 114 

Suggestions for Practice, ..... 114-117 

Exercises, Single Tones, Force, Softness, Low Pitch, 118-121 

'« High Pitch, Slow and Quick Rate, . 122-125 

«« Middle Pitch, Moderate Force and Rate, 126, 127 

'< Successive Tones, Variation, Example, 

(*« Sinking Ship,") Explanations, .... 128-134 

Importance of Explanatory iVnalysis, . . .134 

Chap. V. — Cadence, ...... 135 

General Observations, Nature and EflTect of Cadence, . ib. 

Definition, Prevalent mistake as to Cadence, Ancient and 

Modern forms of Sentences, False and true Cadence, 136-138 

Rules I. and II., 139, 140 

Errors, Deferred Cadence, Too Low, Premature, &c., . 140 
Ocular Illustrations, Remarks, . . . 141-145 
Written and Spoken Sentences, Succession of Ca- 
dences, 145-146 

Suggestions for Practice, 147, 148 



CONTENTS. 



Vll 



Chap. VI. — Reading of Poetry, . . . 149 

General Observations, Mode of reading Poetry, Prose, ib. 

Definitions, Effect of Time, Influence of Poetry on Rate, 
Example; Force, *' Swell " in Music and in Verse; Pitch; 
Prosodial Pauses, ...... 150-156 

Rhythm, Illustration; Metrical Feet, Species of Verse, 
Stanzas and Rhyme, ...... 157-162 

Influence of Verse on the Voice, 

Errors, Excessive Rapidity, Prosaic Utterance 

Rule, ...... 

Suggestions for Practice, 



, &c., 



. 163 
164-169 

. 170 
170-175 



Miscellaneous Exercises, ..... 177 
Explanatory Statement, ..... 177-179 

Exercise I. Extraordinary Memory, . . . 179 

II. Character of Sir Walter Scott, . . ISO 

III. Paine 's escapes from the Guillotine, . 182 

IV. Henry Francisco, , . . . 184 
V. Miseries of War, .... 187 

VI. Remarkable instance of Honesty, . 189 

VII. Louis XI. and the Prior of Cosmo, . 192 

VIII. Religious Character of the Tyrolese, . 195 

IX. Mexican Indian Dance, v . .197 

X. Modern Venice, . . . .199 

XL Institution for Blind Children at Vienna, 20 1 

XII. Atmosphere of Newfoundland, . . 204 

XIII. Genius and Method, . . . 206 

XIV. Wisdom of Providence, . . . 209 
XV. Good-Nature, 214 

XVI. Witchcraft, 217 

XVII. Ship by Moonlight, . . . .221 



VllI 



CONTENTS. 



Exercise XVIII. Thoughts at Sunrise, 

«« XIX. Forest Hymn, 

«< XX. Creation of Light, 

'« XXT. Scene from Comus, 

< « XXII. Downfall of Richard II. , 

«< XXIII. Scene from Kin^j John. 



224 
225 
228 
230 
233 
234 



XXIV. 



" Love's Labour's Lost, 238 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



The author of these Exercises having been repeatedly 
solicited by teachers and students, to prepare a manual of 
elocution, corresponding to his Lessons in Enunciation, 
respectfully offers the following pages as an aid to prac- 
tical instruction, or to self-cultivation. 

The primary design of the present work, is to embody 
the elementary rules of Inflection, Emphasis, and Pausing. 
The principles of Modulation, in oratorical and poetic 
expression, together with some strictures on Cadence and 
Metre, have been added as a sequel, to complete the course 
of instruction, with reference to the cultivation of the voice. 

The Exercises in Elocution, together with the Lessons 
in Enunciation, will, it is hoped, form an appropriate 
series of instruction in the art of Reading, for learners in 
schools, or for individuals desirous of pursuing the study of 
elocution, in the branches mentioned above. 

A manual on Declamation, — entitled Rudiments of Ges- 
ture, — (by the author and publishers of these Exercises,) 
has been prepared for the use of schools, and other semina- 
ries, in which instruction in Speaking forms a part of the 
course of education. The last-mentioned volume is de- 
signed for the assistance of adult students, as well as of 
younger learners. 

BOSTON; JUNE, 1841. 



INTRODUCTION. 



The question has often been asked, doubtingly, whether 
it is possible to teach the art of reading, by the use of rules. 
Any art which is grounded on recognised principles, may, 
certainly, be taught by rules deduced from these principles. 
Every teacher who corrects the emphasis, the inflections, 
or the pauses, which his pupils use in reading, must have, 
in every instance, a reason for his correction. All such 
reasons are rules; and these it is the duty of the teacher 
to impart. These, in fact, are themselves the instructions 
which he has to give. 

Every attentive teacher of reading, will endeavour to put 
his pupils in possession of even those less palpable princi- 
ples which regulate the nicest modulations of the voice, in 
the most delicate tones of feeling. But, in the applica- 
tions of inflection, emphasis, and pause, which determine 
the meaning of every sentence of audible language, a defi- 
nite rule is indispensable to intelligible or eflective instruc- 
tion. 

The systematic practice of elocution, requires attention, 
in the first place, to the acquisition of volume and pliancy of 
voice, vigor of organ, and -purity of tone. Next, in the order 
of vocal culture, is a series of exercises adapted to the 
formation of a forcible, clear, distinct enunciation, on the 
scale of public reading or speaking.^ 

The functions of the voice, — in its operations as an in- 

* Exercises intended to facilitate these elementary acqaisitionS; are 
embodied in the appendix to the author's Lessons in Enunciation. 



12 INTRODUCTION. 

strument, — having been properly regulated, the next stage 
of instruction and practice, regards the execution of those 
sounds which constitute the " melody" of speech, in suc- 
cessive clauses and sentences, and determine their charac- 
ter and meaning. 

The act of enunciating syllables, or of pronouncing w^ords, 
may be performed v\^ithout reference to their signification. 
This forms the strictly elementary part of elocution. The 
utterance of clauses and sentences, implies a purpose in 
expression, and is founded on the relations which language 
bears to thought. The appropriate utterance of meaning, 
is the object in view in this department of elocution ; and 
the attention of the learner, in this stage, is directed to the 
notes of the scale, to the relative degrees of force, and to the 
occasional intermissions of voice, by which reading and 
speaking are rendered significant. .These subjects are 
comprehended under the technical designations of Inflec- 
tions, Emphasis, and Pauses ; and to these topics the first 
three chapters of the following treatise are confined. 

Inflections, 

Those significant turns of voice, which, — whether occur- 
ring in single words or successive phrases, — depend on 
difference of note, or the use of the gamut in elocution, are 
technically designated, "Inflections," " Slides," or " Waves.^' 

These phenomena of vocal sound, occur in the following 
among other instances : in the rise of voice with which we 
terminate a question that admits of a negative or a positive 
answer; as in the inquiry, "Have you read the book?" — in 
the falling tone of the answer to such a question; thus "I 
have:" — in the suspended tone of incomplete sense, as at 
the termination of the initial part of a sentence; thus, "On 
the fifth day of the moon, which, according to the custom 
of my fathers, I always keep holy," — in the waving, or com- 
bined upward and downward turns, with which emphatic 
words in sarcastic exclamation, are uttered ; thus, 

*' I've caught 3'ou iheu at last /'' 



INTRODUCTION. 18 

To this branch of elocution is also referred the "Mono- 
tone," — the utter absence of upward or downward turn. 
This state of voice is exemplified in the tone of awe, and 
similar emotions, which tend to suppress the play of utter- 
ance. A perfect level of sound is maintained in passages 
such as the following : 

" Night, sable goddess, from her ebon thronC; 

In rayless majesty now stretches forth 

Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world/' 

Emphasis. 

The relative force of expressions which are peculiarly 
significant, is denoted by the term "Emphasis" — a word 
which is arbitrarily made to stand for several qualities of 
voice, concentrated in a single expressive word or clause. 
One of the most prominent of these qualities being force, 
or quantity of sound, this element has, in popular accepta- 
tion, been regarded as the sole characteristic of emphasis. 

The peculiar distinction of emphatic utterance, however, 
usually embraces a strongly marked inflection, in conjunc- 
tion with special force, as may be traced in the tone of the 
word men, in the indignant interrogation, "Are ye men?" 

Pauses, 

The word " Pause," in its application to elocution, ex- 
tends to any or to all of the following circumstances, — the 
intermission of voice, at the usual grammatical stops; at 
those places w^here the sense demands a pause, though not 
indicated by the punctuation ; and at those where deep or 
powerful emotion suspends the utterance, without regard 
to any rule but its own instinctive law. 

Modulation, 
If we regard enunciation and pronunciation as the me- 
chanical part of elocution ; inflection, emphasis, and pausing, 
may be designated as its intellectual part. The former re- 
gards, chiefly, the ear, as cognizant of audible expression ; 

the latter regards the understanding, as addressed by intelli" 

1# 



14 INTRODUCTION, 

gible utterance, and requiring the exercise of judgment, in 
consecutive and rational communication. This branch of 
the subject extends, it is true, to some of the forms of tone 
which give expression to feeling ; but its chief offices are 
strictly intellectual, 

A third department of elocution embraces the considera- 
tion of tone, as adapted to the utterance of passion, or the 
strongest forms of emotion, and is designated by the techni- 
cal name of " Modulation." 

Under this term are comprehended all those modifica- 
tions of voice which are appropriate to empassioned expres- 
sion, and the changes of tone by which the reader or 
speaker passes from one emotion to another. This branch 
of the subject includes, in detail, whatever regards ^'force,^^ 
or intensity of voice, ^'pitch,'^^ or the predominating note of 
the scale, and " movement,^^ or the rate of utterance, as fast 
or slow. 

Modulation is vividly marked in those exercises of decla- 
mation and recitation, which embody the highest forms of 
eloquence and poetry. To these it is the main element of 
life and power. But it is not less important in its more 
moderate application, in the reading of all passages, whether 
in poetry or in prose, which are characterised by sentiment 
and feeling. It is the sole means of awakening sympathy, 
or of creating an interest in thought. Without it, reading 
becomes mechanical and lifeless, and fails of all its higher 
purposes. 

Cadence, 

or the appropriate modulation of the voice, at the close of a 
sentence, would, at first sight, appear to be but a mechanical 
modification of voice, or, at best, no more than a recom- 
mendation to the ear of refined taste. But, on closer ob- 
servation, it will be found to constitute a main element of 
eflfect in the expression of sentiment. 

It is the predominance or the frequent recurrence of a 
peculiar cadence, which gives character to the melody of 
emotion, in successive sentences ; and it is the judicious 



INTRODUCTION. 15 

use of this turn of voice, which, most of all, deepens the 
impression of the feeling that pervades a composition, as a 
whole. The " song" of bad reading, is principally caused 
by an erroneous cadence. 

Metre. 

The modulation of the voice, in adaptation to different 
species of metrical composition, is indispensable to the appro- 
priate or effective reading of verse. The purest forms of 
poetry, become, when deprived of this aid, nothing but 
awkward prose. A just and delicate observance of the 
effect of metre, on the other hand, is one of the surest 
means of imparting that inspiration of feeling, which it is 
the design of poetry to produce. 

This branch of the subject, and the one immediately 
preceding, are but peculiar applications of Modulation, 
But the practical importance of both, in relation to thor- 
ough instruction in the art of elocution, has induced the 
author to treat them separately,— an arrangement which, 
he trusts, will be found most convenient both for students 
and teachers. 

The general plan on which this work is arranged, is as 
follows. To render the whole distinctly intelligible to 
learners, and to facilitate the use of the volume in prac- 
tical instruction, a chapter is assigned to each of the topics 
mentioned in this introduction. Each chapter contains, — 
1, some general ohservcdions, explanatory of the branch of 
which it treats ;— 2, a definition of the subject; 3, the rules 
which apply to it, illustrated by examples ; 4, suggestions 
relating to modes of practice; 5, a selection of exercises, 
adapted to the rules and notes contained in each chapter. 



EXERCISES liN ELOCUTION, 



CHAPTER L 



INFLECTION. 



General Observations. The use of inflection, (or 
the vocal slide,) has been briefly indicated in the 
Introduction, as giving significance to speech, and 
constituting that part of modulation which is address- 
ed to the understanding. It ranks riext to a distinct 
articulation, as the means of rendering consecutive 
oral expression intelligible. It has, too, a certain 
eflect of local melody, — so to term it, — in the succes- 
sive clauses of a sentence, without which aid we could 
not discriminate between the commencement and the 
completion of a thought addressed to the ear. 

Propriety of tone, even in the plainest forms of 
prose reading, is wholly dependent on the right use 
of inflections; and the absence, or the wrong appli- 
cation, of these modifications of voice, indicates either 
a want of ear, or of right understanding as to the 
sense of what is read. In the reading of verse, ap- 
propriate inflections are the only means of avoiding 
the two great evils of monotony and chant. 



18 INFLECTION. 

Reading, without inflections, becomes lifeless, as 
may be observed in what is usually called a '^ school- 
boy tone." This fault not only divests language of 
its meaning, but substitutes a ludicrous monotony for 
the natural, animated, and varied expression of the 
voice, in actual communication. The hearer una- 
voidably loses all interest in what is monotonously 
read; for it makes no appeal either to his feelings or 
to his understanding. 

But it is not monotony, or the mere absence of 
inflection, or a formal mannerism, that is the only 
ground of complaint, as regards the too common style 
of reading. The ear undisciplined by proper early 
training, acquires habits of false intonation, and for 
the appropriate slides of the voice, substitutes, often, 
such as are quite at variance with the sense of what 
is read, or utterly repugnant to the ear of cultivated 
taste. ^ 

*A striking example of this fault occurs m the prevalent use of 
the *« wave," double slide, or <* circumflex," in the colloquial 
accent, and the local reading intonation of New England, — a fault 
which even well educated persons often unconsciously display on 
the gravest occasions, although the appropriate use of the circum- 
flex belongs only to the language of wit, or drollery, or to sarcas- 
tic and ironical expression. 

This tone is strikingly exemplified in every emphatic word of 
what are popularly termed «< Yankee stories," but may be traced, 
in a reduced form, in the current tones of New England, whether 
in speaking or in reading. 



DEFINITION. 19 



SIMPLE RISING AND FALLING INFLECTIONS OR SLIDES. 

Definition.^ Inflection, as a term applied to 
elocution, signifies the inclining, or sliding, of the 
voice, either upward or downward-! 

There are two simple inflections, — the upward, 
or losing, usually denoted by the acute accent, Q 
— and the downward, or falling, marked with 
the grave accent, Q. 

The former occurs in the tone of a question 
which admits of being answered by yes or no, or 
by any other form of affirmation or negation ; and 
the latter in that of the answer ; thus, 

'' Is it a difficult aflfair V'—'' Yes.'' 

" Will you go see the order of the course ?" — 
" Not r' 

^^ Arm'd, say you ?" — '^^Arm^d, my lord.'* 

JVbfe 1. In the tones of strong emotion, the rising 
inflection runs up to a very high note, and the falling 
descends to one very low. The space traversed by 
the voice, in such eases, is sometimes a ^* third," 

* The importance of clear and correct ideas in the study of a 
subject new to many learners, has induced the author to adopt as 
systematic and exact an arrangement as possible, though at the 
risk, perhaps, of apparent formality. Those parts of this work 
which are distinguished by large type, are intended to be commit- 
ted to memory. On all others, the learner should be closely 
examined. 

t Teachers and students will find here, as in all other depart- 
ments of elocution, a copious source of instruction in Dr. Rush's 
elaborate work on the Philosophy of the Human Voice. 



20 INFLECTION^ 

sometimes a ''fifth," and sometimes an ''octave," 
according to the intensity of emotion. 

Example 1. [The tone of indignant surprise, height- 
ened by question and contrast]: — " Shall we in your 
person crown the author of the public calamities, or 
shall we destroy him?" 

2. "Hark! — a deep sound strikes like a rising 
knell." 

[Earnest, agitated inquiry]: — "Did you not hear 

it?" 
[Careless and contemptuous answer]: — "JVo.' 'twas 

but the wind, 

Or the car rattling o^er the stony street." 

3. [Excessive impatience] : — ^^ Must 1 endure all 
thisV 

[Derisive and scornful repetition]:^ — "•^/Z thisT^ 
[Emphatic assertion] : — ' ' ^ye, mdre^\ 

JVbte 2, In unempassioned language, on the con- 
trary, the tone being comparatively moderate, the ia-^ 
flections rise and fall but slightly. 

The following examples, in which this diminution 
of inflection takes place, are so arranged that the 
inflections are to be reduced by successive stages, 
till they lose entirely the point and acuteness of the 
tone of question, from which they are supposed to 
commence, and are, at last, brought down nearly to 
the comparative level which they acquire in conver- 
sational expression, — the form in which they are 
oftenest employed in a chaste and natural style of 
reading. 

Example 1. Interrogation, when not emphatic; 
thus, " Shall I speak to him?" 



DEFINITION. 21 

2. Contrast, Avhen not accompanied bj emotion: 
" They fought not for fame but freedom." 

3. The expression of a condition or a supposition: 
''If we would be truly happy, we must be actively 
useful." '' Your enemies may be formidable by their 
number and their power. But He who is with you is 
mightier than they." 

4. Comparison and correspondence : ''As the 
beauty of the body always accompanies the health 
of it, so is decency of behaviour a concomitant to 
virtue." 

5. Connexion: "He shook the fragment of his 
blade, 

And shouted, Victory!" 

6. Continuance of thought, or incomplete expres- 
sion, generally: "Destitute of resources, he fled in 
disguise." "Formed to excel in peace, as well as in 
war, Caesar possessed many great and noble quali- 
ties." "While dangers are at a distance, and do 
not immediately approach us; let us not conclude 
that we are secure, unless we use the necessary pre- 
cautions against them." "To us who dwell upon its 
surface, the earth is by far the most extensive orb 
that our eyes can anywhere behold." 

Definition. Circumflex, or tcave. The two 
simple inflections, the rising and the falling, are 
superseded, in the tones of keen and ironical emo- 
tion, or peculiar significance in expression, by a 
double turn, or slide of voice, which unites both in 
one continuous sound, called the circumflex, or 
wave. 

When the double inflection thus produced ter- 
2 



22 FALLING INFLECTION. 

minates with the upward sUde, it is called the n- 
sing circumflex, which is marked thus (v) ; when 
it terminates with the downward sHde, it is called 
the falling cii^cumflex, — marked thus (a). 

These inflections occur in the following passage 
of ironical expression, — deriding the idea that Cae- 
sar was entitled to the credit of humane feeling,be- 
cause he could not pass the Rubicon without a 
pause of misgiving: '^Oh! but he paused upon 
the brink !" 

Monotone. When no inflection is used, a mon-- 
otone, or perfect level of voice, is produced, which 
is usually marked thus ( — ). This tone belongs to 
emotions arising from sublimity and grandeur. It 
characterises, also, the extremes of amazement and 
horror. 

'^ High on a throne of royal state, that far 
Outshone the wealth of Ormus or of Ind, 
Or where the gorgeous East, with richest hand. 
Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold, 
Satan exalted sat/'^ 

RULES. 

FALLING INFLECTION. 

Rule I. Forcible expression requires the fall- 
ing inflection, as in the following instances of ener- 
getic emotion : earnest calling or shouting, abrupt 

* Farther examples of this inflection occur under the Rules on 
Monotone, 



RULE 1. 23 

and vehement exclamation, imperious or energetic 
command, indignant or reproachful address, chal- 
lenge and defiance, swearing and adjuration, im- 
precation, accusation, — assertion, affirmation, or 
declaration, — assurance, threatning, warning, de- 
nial, contradiction, refusal, — appeal, remonstrance 
and expostulation, earnest intreaty, exhortation, 
earnest or animated invitation, temperate com- 
mand, admiration, adoration. 

Examples, 
Calling and shouting: '* Awake! arise! or be for 

ever fallen!" 
Abrupt exclamation: '^To arms! they come ! — the 

Greek, the Greek!" 
Imperious command: ^^ Hence ! home, you idle 

creatures, get you home!" 

Indignant address: '^You blocks, you stones, you 

worse than senseless things" — 
Challenge and defiance: '' I dare him to his proofs." 
Swearing and adjuration: *'By all the blood that 
fury ever breathed, 
The youth says well." 

** I do beseech you 
By all the battles wherein we have fought, 
By the blood we have shed together, by the vows 
We have made to endure friends, that you directly 
Set me against Aufidius and his Antiates." 
Imprecation : '^ Accurs'd may his memory blacken, 

If a coward there be that would slacken" — 
Accusation: ''With a foul traitor's name stuff I 
thy throat." 



24 FALLING INFLECTION. 

Assertion, affirmation, declaration: *^We must 
fight, — I repeat it, sir, — we must fight." 

Assurance: ^' But whatever may be our fate, be as- 
sured, be assured that this Declaration will stand." 
Threatning: ''Have mind upon your health, tempt 

me no further." 
Warning: ''Lochiel, Lochiel, beware of the day." 
Denial: ''For Gloucester's death, — 

I slew him not, but, to my own disgrace, 

Neglected my sworn duty in that case." 
Contradiction: ^^ Brutus. I did send to you 

For certain sums of gold, which you denied me — 

Cassius. I denied you not. 

Bru, You did. 

Cas, I did not"— 

Refusal: "Your grace shall pardon me, I will not 
back." 

Appeal: " I appeal to all who hear me, for the truth 
of my assertion." 

Remonstrance and expostulation: 

"Good reverend father, make ray person yours, 
And tell me how you would bestow yourself. 
This royal hand and mine are newly knit; — 
The latest breath that gave the sound of words, 
Was deep-sworn faith, peace, amity, true love. 
Between our kingdoms, and our royal selves; 
— And shall these hands so lately purged of blood. 
So newly joined in love, so strong in both. 
Unyoke this seizure and this kind regret.'*" 

Earnest intreaty: "Let me, upon my knee, prevail 
in this!" 

Exhortation: " Come on, then; be men." 



RULE II* 25 

Earnest invitation: '^ Come forth, O ye children of 

gladness, come!" 
Temperate command: '^Now launch the boat upon 

the waves." 
Admiration: ''How beautiful is night!" 
Adoration: ** Great and marvellous are thy works. 
Lord God Almighty!" 

Rule II. The falling inflection is required in 
the expression of relative force of thought, as in 
the emphasis of contrast, wh^n one part of an 
antithesis is made preponderant, v^hether by affir- 
mation opposed to negation, or merely by compar- 
ative force or prominence. 

Examples, 
''They fought not for fame but freedom." 
" Are you an actor in this busy scene, or are you 

but an idle spectator.^" 

"True politeness is not a mere compliance with 

arbitrary custom.^ It is the expression of a refined 

benevolence." 

* Teachers who have attempted to aid young learners in the 
practice of inflections, must have felt the difficulty of imparting a 
clear conception of the effect of the falling slide in examples like 
the above, in which its character is wholly dependent on a prece- 
ding or a subsequent rising inflection. To the ear of the pupil, the 
rising note at the end of the negative €>r less forcible sentence^ 
seems unnatural, from his habit of complying with the direction to 
**'Iet the voice uniformly fall at a period," — a direction which, 
from not being duly qualified, is one of the chief causes of mono- 
tonous and unmeaning tones in reading. 

It is not till the learner's attention has been attracted to the cir- 
cumstance of relative force, or preponderance, in the members of 
2=^ 



26 FALLING INFLECTION. 

^^ You were paid to fight against Alexander, — not 
to rail at him." 

*' A countenance more in sorrow than.in anger." 

Rule III. The falling inflection terminates a/or- 
cible interrogation, or any form of question which 
does not admit of being answered by yes or no. 

Examples, 
^^ What conquests brings he home?" 
''Who's here so base that he would be a bondman?' 
''When went there by an age since the great flood, 
But it was famed with more than with one man?" 
" Why should this worthless tegument endure. 
If its undying guest be lost for ever?" 
"How shall we do for money for these wars?" 
" Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough 
To mask thy monstrous visage?" 

Exception. Any question repeated or echoed in the 
tone of genuine or affected surprise. Such questions 
always end with the rising inflection, as in the follow- 
ing instances: 

"Where grows! — where grows it not?" 

"What news! Can any thing be more new, than 
that a man of Macedonia should lord it over all 
Greece?" 

"How accomplish it ? — certainly not by never at- 
tempting it!" 

JYote, The examples which follow the preceding 
rule, are classed under the general head of " forcible 

a comparison or a contrast, that his ear catches the true tone of 
meaning in such cases, and recognises the falling inflection as its 
appropriate characteristic, and the rising as a necessary contrast, 
in whatever part of a sentence they occur. 



RULE IV. 27 

interrogation," as it is their comparative force which 
seems to require the falling inflection; while the form 
of interrogation which is answered by ijes or no, de- 
mands, on the principle of incompleteness or suspen- 
sion of thought, the rising inflection; since the circuit 
of thought is not completed till the answer is given, 
as well as the question put. 

That there is a comparative rhetorical force in the 
former species of interrogation, — that which is not 
answered by yes or no, — will appear by changing, in 
one of the above examples, the form of the question; 
thus, '' Is any here so base that he would be a bond- 
man?" — a feeble and lifeless inquiry compared to the 
original, ''Who's here so base," &.c. 

The echoing question of surprise assumes the rising 
inflection, because in it an ellipsis takes place, which 
would be supplied by a question demanding an affirma- 
tive or a negative answer; thus, see above ''What 
news!" — i. e. "What news! (did you say?)" 

Rule IV. Completeness of thought and ex- 
pression is indicated by the falling inflection, 
whether at the end of a sentence, or of a clause 
which forms perfect sense, independently of the re- 
mainder of a sentence.* 

Examples, 

"Human life is the journey of a day." 
— *' I have seen, 



The dumb men throng to see him, and the blind 
To hear him speak: matrons flung their gloves, 
Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchiefs, 

* See Concluding Remarks on the Theory of Inflection. 



28 FALLING INFLECTION. 

Upon him as he passed; the nobles bended 
As to Jove's statue; and the commons made 
A shower and thunder, with their caps and shouts: 
I never saw the like." 

Exception, Pathetic expression and poetic descrip- 
tion, whether in the form of verse or of prose, require 
the rising inflection, even where the sense is complete, 
as in the following instances: 

'* For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, 

Or busy housewife ply her evening care; 
No children run to lisp their sire's return, 

Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share." 
'' Are they gone ? — all gone from the sunny hill? 
But the bird and the blue fly rove over it still. 
And the red deer bound in their gladness free, 
And the turf is bent by the singing bee, 
And the waters leap, and the fresh winds blow" — 
'^The most intimate friendship — of what brief and 
scattered portions of time does it consist! We take 
each other by the hand; and we exchange a few 
words and looks of kindness; and we rejoice together 
for a few short moments; and then days, months, 
years intervene, and we have no intercourse with 
each other." 

Jlpplication of Rule IV, to series of words and clauses. 
The word series in elocution is used to designate a 
succession of words or clauses, — amounting to any 
number, from two upwards, — so connected in mean- 
ing as to be comprehended under the same rule of 
syntax, by a conjunction expressed or understood. 

A series which is so formed that each of its mem- 
bers concludes, of completes, a distinct portion of the 



CONCLUDING SERIES. 29 

sense, — so that the sentence might terminate at anj 
of these members without leaving the impression of 
an imperfect idea or an unfinished sentence, — is call- 
ed a cencludiiig series. 

A series which consi&ts of single worlds, connected 
as above, is called a simple series: one which com- 
prises several words, or a clause, in each of its suc- 
cessive members, is called a compound series. 

The following sentence contains an example of a 
simple concluding series of five members: 

''The characteristics of chivalry, were valour, hu- 
manity, courtesy, justice, and honour. 

Example of a compound concluding series: 

''The characteristics of chivalry were personal 
courage, humane feeling, courteous deportment, a 
strict regard to justice, and a high sense of honour," 

JVote 1. A concluding series is read, (as marked 
above,) with the falling inflection on every member, 
except the penultimate, which rises in preparation for 
the cadence at the close of the sentence.^ 

This rule holds in ail cases, except those which 
contain extraordinary force of expression; and, in 
such instances, the falling inflection prevails through- 
out; thus, "Eloquence is action — noble, sublime, 
godlike action." 

JVote 2. Pathetic and poetic series are excepted, 
throughout, from the application of Rule IV., and 
are read with the rising inflection on every member 
but the last, as in the subjoined examples. 

" not to me returns 

Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, 

* See Concluding Remarks on the Theory of Inflection. 



30 CONCLUDING SERIES. 

Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose. 
Or flocks or herds or human face divine" — 
*^ Content thee, boy! in my bower to dwell, — 
Here are sweet sounds which thou 16 vest well; 
Flutes on the air in the stilly noon. 
Harps which the wandering breezes tune, 
And the silvery wood-note of many a bird, 
Whose voice was ne'er in thy mountains heard." 

''When we have looked on the pleasures of life, 
and they have vanished away ; when we have looked 
on the works of nature, and perceived that they were 
changing; on the monuments of art, and seen that 
they would not stand; on our friends, and they have 
fled while we were gazing; on ourselves, and felt that 
we were as fleeting as they; when we have looked on 
every object to which we could turn our anxious eyes, 
and they have all told us that they could give us no 
hope nor support, because they were so feeble them- 
selves; we can look to the throne of God:^ change 
and decay have never reached that; the revolution of 
ages has never moved it; the waves of an eternity 
have been rushing past it, but it has remained un- 
shaken; the waves of another eternity are rushing 
toward it, but it is fixed, and can never be disturbed." 

Application of Rule IV. in the answer to a question: 
whatever word contains the ansiver to a question pre- 
ceding, is pronounced with the falling inflection; thus, 

''Arm'd, say you?" " Arm'd, my lord." 

Application of Rule IV. in antithesis : the falling in- 

* The remainder of the sentence falls under the exception to 
Note 1, on the Concluding Series. See p. 29. 



RISING INFLECTION. 31 

flection is used in the latter member of an antithesis* 
of equal force in its constituent parts; thus, 

'^In Homer, we admire the man; in Virgil, the 
work." 

''Are you toiling for fame, or labouring to heap up 
a fortune?" 



RISING INFLECTION, 

Rule I. Forms of speech which excite expec- 
iation of farther^ expression, whether they occur 
in the form of question, or of incomplete thought, 
and suspension of sense, raise or suspend the voice 
by the rising inflection. 

JVbfe 1. The circumstance of incompleteness or ex- 
pectation^ is the turning point on which depend all the 
rules for the rising inflection, as far as this slide is as- 
sociated with meaning addressed to the understanding. 
Feeling and harmony are the governing principles em- 
bodied in all the other rules on this inflection. The 
extent of the slide, or, in other words, the interval 
which the rising inflection traverses, in these cases, is 
prescribed by the nature of the prevalent emotion, in 
each instance. But in the circumstances presumed 
in Rule I., the slide is more or less elevated, accord- 
ing to the degree of expectation excited by the phrase 
to which it is applied, or the length of the clause 
which it terminates, and consequently the length of 
time during which the attention is kept in suspense. 

Hence, in marked suspension of sense, and in the 

* The antithesis of unequal parts occurs under Rule XL on ike 
-falling inflection. 



32 RISING INFLECTION. 

vivid expectation consequent upon it^ the inflection 
runs high, — usually traversing an *' octave" or e& 
*' fifth;" thus, 

'' Shall we then tamely yield, or bravely resist?" 

In the moderate suspension of connexion, on the con- 
trary, the inflection is much reduced; seldom rising 
above a ** third;" sometimes limited to a single note, 
or even a semitone; and sometimes preserving a per- 
fect monotone. The annexed example, read in the 
tone of solemn description, allows but a very slight in- 
terval to the rising slide on the word '^ falls." 

''The dew of night falls, and the earth is refreshed." 

In the following and similar examples, the inflection 
rises in proportion as the clause or clauses to which it 
belongs, are lengthened: 

''As we cannot discern the shadow moving along 
the dial-plate, so the advances we make in knowledge 
are only perceived by the distance gone over." 

"^As we perceive the shadow to have moved, but 
did not perceive its moving; so our advances in learn- 
ing, consisting of insensible steps, are only ])erceiv- 
able by the distance." 

"^As we perceive the shadow to have moved along 
the dial-plate, but did not perceive its moving; and it: 
appears that the grass has grown, though nobody ever 
saw it grow: so the advances we make in knowledge, 
as they consist of so minute steps, are only perceivable 
h^ the distance." 

JVofe 2, Rule I. on the rising inflection applies in 
the tone of a question which requires an affirmative 
or a negative answer; in the tone of surprise, as it 
intimates suspense, and is usually expressed in the 
form. of question; in respectful address, request, pe— 



'"UHlllllUmiiUHrUinUi.UW^ K« 



RULE I. 33 

trtion, or apostrophe; in the negative, or less forcible, 
part of an antithesis; in the expression of a condition, 
a supposition, or a concession; in the first part of a 
comparison, a contrast, or a correspondence; in the 
expression of connexion or continuance ; in any phrase 
which is introductory to another, and leaves the sense 
of a passage incomplete. 

Examples, 
Questions admitting of an affirmative or a negative 
answer: ''Will you obey so atrocious a mandate?" 

Surprise: " Ha! laughest thou, Lochiel, my vision 

to scorn?" 
"What! surrender on terms so dishonorable?" 
Address: "^My lord, I think I saw him yester 

night." 
" Can you, fellow citizens, be misled by such ar- 
guments?" 

Request: "Refuse not this last request of friend- 
ship!" 

Petition: "Oh! gently on thy suppliant's head, 

Dread goddess, lay thy chastening hand!" 
Apostrophe : " O sacred Truth, thy triumphs ceased 

awhile," — 
Antithesis: "He came not with the aspect of ven- 
geance but of mercy." 

Condition or supposition: " If we attempt to num- 
ber the stars, we are presently bewildered and lost! 
if we attempt to compass the idea of eternity, we are 
overwhelmed by the contemplation of a theme so 
vast." 

Concession: " Science may raise you to eminence; 
but virtue alone can guide you to felicity." 
3 



34 RISING INFLECTION. 

Comparison, contrast, and correspondence: *'As 
face answereth to face in water, so the heart of man 
to man." 

''Dryden is sometimes vehement and rapid: Pope 
is always smooth, uniform, and gentle." 

Connexion and continuance: ''He came unto his 
own, and his own received him not." 

Introductory phrase: *' In the midst of perplexities, 
he was never discouraged." 

Application of Ride I. to series of words and clauses. 
The last member of a commencing series is read with 
the rising inflection. 

A commencing series is that in which the sense is 
merely commenced, or left incomplete, at every word 
or clause; the whole being intl'oductory to a following 
phrase. [Compare this with the definition of the con- 
cluding series in the application of Rule IV. on the 
falling inflection.] 

Examples, ''Valour, humanity, courtesy, justice, 
and honour, were the characteristics of chivalry." 

"Personal courage, humane feeling, courteous de- 
portment, a strict regard to justice, and a high sense 
of honour, were the characteristics of chivalry.^ 

* The falling inflection seems, notwithstanding the incomplete 
sense of a commencing series, to belong appropriately to all the 
members but the last, on the principle of enumeration, which 
from its approach to completeness at every stage, naturally in- 
clines to the falling inflection, as we may ascertain by referring to 
the customary tone of serious and attentive counting or reckoning. 
This inflection, however, is of minor consequence, and, unless in 
emphatic language, may be superseded by the rising, without any 
other defect, than a comparative want of force and harmony. It 
is the closing inflection of the series which is essential to meaning, 



RULE I. 35 

JVbfe 3. Exceptions to all the applications of Rule I. 
on the rising inflection, occur in cases of peculiar 
force or emphasis. In such instances, the falling in- 
flection supersedes the rising; as the former is the 
invariable indication of energetic expression, and the 
rule of force displaces every other, in the utterance 
of thought. 

Examples. 

Earnest interrogation: ''He now appears before a 
jury of his country for redress. Will you deny him 
this redress." 

Interrogation of emphasis : '' Do you think that 
your conditions w^ill be accepted? Can you even ima- 
gine they will be listened to.^" 

Peculiar distinction in contrast: ''If we have no 
regard for our own character, we ought to have some 
regard for that of others." 

Emphatic expression in condition and supposition: 
*'Ifyou did, I care not." 

Energetic expression, although marked by the forms 
of connexion and continuance of meaning: 

" Such where ye find, seize fast, and hither bring." 

Introductory and incomplete expression, when em- 
phatic: "Destitute of every shadow of excuse, he 
shrunk abashed at the reproof." "Every day he 
lived he would have repurchased the bounty of the 
crown and ten times more, if ten times more he had 
received." 

The last member of a commencing series, if em- 

and indicates to the ear, whether the sense is complete or incom- 
plete, and whether the series is a commencing or a concluding 
«ne. £See Concluding Remarks on Injflection.] 



36 RISING INFLECTION. 

phatic: ''His hopes, his happiness, his very life, hung 
upon the next word from those lips." 

Expressions of surprise, when emphatic: ''It does 
not seem possible, even after the testimony of our 
senses." 

Forcible address: "Mr. Chairman, I call on your 
interference to put a stop to this uproar." ^ 

Request, petition, intreaty, apostrophe: 
"Be husband to me, Heavens!" 

JSTote 4. The rising inflection gives place to the 
falling, in the tone of an interrogatory sentence which 
extends to unusual length, or concludes a long para- 
graph or an entire piece; thus, 

"The Brigantines, even under a female leader, had 
force enough to burn the enemy's settlements, to 
storm their camps, and if success had not introduced 
negligence and inactivity, would have been able en- 
tirely to throw off the yoke; and shall not we, un- 
touched, unsubdued, and struggling not for the acqui- 
sition, but the continuance of liberty, declare, at the 
very first onset, what kind of men Caledonia has re- 
served for her defence?" 

Rule II. The tones of pathos, — of tenderness 
and of grief; — usually incline to the rising inflec- 
tion. 

For examples turn to Note 2d, Rule IV. on the 
falling inflection. 

Exception. The exclamations of excessive grief 
take the appropriate falling inflection offeree; thus, 
' ' Oh ! my son Absalom ! my son, my son Absalom ! " 



RULE III. 37 

Rule III. Poetic and beautiful description, — 
whether in the form of verse or of prose, — has the 
rising inflection. 

For examples see as above, and add the following: 
*'When the gay and smiling aspect of things has 
b^gun to leave the passages to a man's heart thus 
thoughtlessly unguarded; when kind and caressing 
looks of every object without, that can flatter his 
senses, have conspired with the enemy within to be- 
tray him, and put him off* his defence; when music 
likewise hath lent her aid, and tried her power upon 
the passions; when the voice of singing men, and the 
voice of singing women, with the sound of the viol 
and the lute, have broke in upon his soul, and in some 
tender notes have touched the secret springs of rap- 
ture; — that moment, let us dissect and look into his 
heart: see how vain, how weak,^ how empty a thing 

itis."t 

* See Note 1 to Rule IV. on the falling inflection. 

t The above example, it will be perceived, might be classed 
under the commencing series, and, if divested of poetic character, 
might be read with a prevailing downward slide. This circum- 
stance may suggest the genercd rule of reading poetic series with 
the rising slide on every member except the penultimate of a com- 
mencing series, and the last of a concluding one; the falling slide 
being required in the former as a preparation for a distinct and 
prominent rising slide on the last member, and in the latter for the 
cadence of the sentence. 

The reason why the prevalence of a rising slide should charac- 
terise poetic description, is to be found, perhaps, in the milder 
and softer character of that inflection, compared to the falling 
slide, which is always the expression of force. The calm and 
gentle emotions of poetic description, in general, will therefore be 
most appropiately given by the former. [See as a contrast to this 
inflection the Exception to Rule III. on the rising inflection. ] 
3* 



38 RISING INFLECTION. 

Exception, Description, when characterised by- 
great force, requires the falling slide in poetry, as 
well as in prose; thus, 

*' Now storming fury rose. 
And clamour, such as heard in heaven till now 
Was never; arms on armour clashing brayed 
Horrible discord; and the madding wheels ^ 

Of brazen chariots raged; dire was the noise 
Of conflict;"— 

Rule IV. Harmony and completeness of ca- 
dence require the rising inflection at the close of 
the penultimate clause of a sentence, so as to ad- 
mit of a full descent at the period. 

Example. ''In epic poetry the English have only 
to boast of Spencer and Milton, who neither of them 
wanted either genius or learning to have been perfect 
poets; and yet both of them are liable to many cen- 
sures". 

Exception, Abrupt and forcible language dispenses 
with this rule of harmony, and admits the falling in- 
flection at a penultimate clause; thus, 

*'Uzziel! half these draw off*, and coast the south 

With strictest watch; these other wheel the north; 

Our circuit meets full west." 

So also in concise and disconnected forms of ex- 
pression: 

*' But the knowledge of nature is only half the busi- 
ness of a poet: he must be acquainted likewise with 
all the modes of life." 



INFLECTION OF PABENTHESIS. 39 



GENERAL RULE ON PARENTHESIS. 

The words included in a parenthesis or between 
two dashes used as a parenthesis, and any phrase 
corresponding in effect to a parenthesis, are read 
with the same inflection as the clause immediately 
preceding them. 

JVote, A lower and less forcible tone, and a more 
rapid utterance, than in the other parts of a sentence, 
together with a degree of monotony, are required in 
the reading of a parenthesis. The form of parenthe- 
sis implies something thrown in as an interruption of 
the main thought in a sentence. Hence its suppressed 
and hurried tone; the voice seeming to hasten over it 
slightly, as if impatient to resume the principal ob- 
ject. The same remark applies, with more or less 
force, to all intervening phrases, whether in the exact 
form of parenthesis, or not. 

Examples, 

''Uprightness is a habit, and, like all other habits, 
gains strength by time and exercise. If then we ex- 
ercise upright principles, (and we cannot have them, 
unless we exercise them,) they must be perpetually 
on the increase." 

*'Now I will come unto you, when I pass through 
Macedonia, (for I do pass through Macedonia;) and 
it may be that I will abide, yea, and winter with you." 

''And this," said he, — putting the remains of a 
crust into his wallet, — "and this should have been 
thy portion," said he, " hadst thou been alive to have 
shared it with me." 



40 CIRCUMFLEX. 

Exceptions occur when a parenthesis closes with an 
emphatic word; thus, '' If you Eschines, in particular, 
were thus persuaded; (and it was no partial affection 
for me that prompted you to give me up the hopes, 
the applause, the honours, which attended the course 
>I then advised, but the superior force of truth, and 
your utter inability to point out any more eligible^ 
course;) if this was the case, I say, is it not highly 
cruel and unjust to arraign those measures now, when 
you could not then propose any better?" 

RULE ON THE CIRCUMFLEX. 

The tone of irony, of equivocal meaning, or 
of peculiar significance, requires the circumflex. 
The falling circumflex, in such cases, takes the 
usual place of the simple falling inflection, and the 
rising circumflex that of the simple rising inflection. 

Examples. 
Irony: '* Oh! you're well met! 

The hoarded plague o' the gods requite your love !" 
Equivocal meaning, or pun: *^Upon this, the 
weights, who had never been accused of light con- 
duct, used all their influence in urging the pendulum 
to proceed." 

Peculiar significance: ''Mark you his absolute shall? 
— They chose their magistrate: 
And such a one as he, who puts his shall, 
His popular shall, against a graver bench 
Than ever frown'd in Greece!" 
''Let any man resolve to do right now, leaving 
then to do as it can; and if he were to live to the age 
of Methuselah, he would never do wrong." 



MONOTOMEi. 41 



RULE ON THE MONOTONE* 

The tones of sublime or grand description; of 
^-everence and awe^ of horror and amazement; re- 
quire the monotone. 

Examples, 

Sublime description: — '^ his form had not yet lost 

All her original brightness, nor appear'd 
Less than archangel ruin'd, and the excess 
Of glory obscur'd; as when the siin new risen 
Looks through the horizontal misty air, 
Shorn of his beams, or from behind the moon, 
In dim eclipse disastrous twilight sheds 
On half the nations, and with fear of change 
Perplexes monarchs;" 

Reverence: '^And chiefly thou, O Spirit! that dost 
prefer, 
Before all temples, the upright heart and pure, 
Instruct me, for thou knowest:" — 

Awe: ''The thoughts are strange that crowd into my 
brain 
While T gaze upward to thee. — Tt would seem 
As though God pour'd thee from his hollow hand, 
And spake in that loiid voice which seem'd to him 
Who dwelt in Patmos, for his Saviour's sake, 
The sound of many waters, and had bid 
Thy flood to chronicle the ages back. 
And notch his centuries in the eternal rock." 

Horror: '' I had a dream which was not all a dream: 
The bright sun was extinguished; and the stars 
Did wander darkling in the eternal space, 



42 INFLECTION. 

Rayless and pathless; and the icy earth 

Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;''- 

Amazement: — '' What may this mean, 

That thou dead corse, again, in complete steel, 
Revisitest thus the glimpses of the moon, 
Making night hideous?"^ 



ERRORS IN INFLECTION* 

The common errors in inflection, are the follow- 
ing: 1st, too frequent repetition of the rising in- 
flection ; thus, 

'^ As we perceive the shadow to have moved, but 
did not perceive its moving; so our advances in learn- 
ing, consisting of insensible steps, are only perceiv- 
able by the distance." 

The puerile and feeble tone thus given to the above 
sentence, will be corrected by substituting the falling 
inflection on the words '^ moved" and '' learning," 
which produces a natural and spirited variety of ex- 
pression. 

2. The opposite error is not uncommon — that 
of using too often the falling inflection, vv^hich 
gives reading a formal and laboured tone ; thus, 

* The principle of the monotone seems to be founded on the 
conviction that no mere vocal distinction, or turn of sound, is ade- 
quate to express the highest conceptions or the profoundest emo- 
tions of the soul. The monotone indicates, as it were, the tem- 
porary inabihty of the voice for its usual function. This very 
circumstance, however, as it ultimately associates sublimity or 
unwonted excitement with the utterance of one reiterated note, 
gives the monotone a peculiar and indescribable power. 



ERRORS « 43 

*^ As we perceive the shadow to have moved, but 
do not perceive its moving; so the advances we make 
in learning, consisting of insensible steps, are only 
perceivable by the distance." 

The heavy effect of this reading will be removed by 
using the rising inflection at ^' moving" and *' steps." 

3. A third error consists ia onaitting the con- 
trasts of inflection in antithesis ; thus, 

** Life is short, and art is long." 

*' Homer was the greater genius, Virgil the better 
Artist." 

This fault destroys the spirit of the contrast; the 
effect of which depends entirely on giving opposite in- 
ilections to the words ''short" and ''long," "genius" 
and " artist." The more sharply these inflections are 
pointed against each other, the more vivid becomes 
the contrast in the sense. 

4. A fourth error is that of dravi^ing up the 
voice to a note unnecessarily high, in the rising 
inflection;, and consequently of sinking equally low^ 
on the falling inflection. 

The fault thus created is that of an artificial and 
mechanical style of reading, constituting the chief 
difference between formal tones and those wliich are 
natural. This defect may be exemplified by reading 
the following sentences with the tones of question and 
answer, at the places which are designated by the 
rising and falling inflections. 

"As the beauty of the body always accompanies 
the health of it, (?) so is decency of behaviour a con- 
comitant to virtue." 



44 INFLECTiaN. 

"Formed to excel in peace as well as in war, ('?;^ 
Csesar possessed many great and noble qualities." 

This fault would be removed by substituting, for the 
excessive rising slide, the moderate inflection of sus- 
pended sense, which rises but little above the current 
level of the voice, as may be observed by contrasting 
the artificial slides of what is sometimes stigmatised* 
as a " reading" tone with the natural and easy turns 
of conversation. 

5. A fault still more objectionable than any that 
has been mentioned, is that of using the circumflex 
instead of the simple inflections, especially in con- 
trasts. 

This error is exemplified in the peculiar local ac- 
cent of New England; thus, Abel was a keeper of 
sheep, but Cain was a tiller of the ground." 

This faulty tone substitutes double for single in- 
flections. The true reading would be marked thus; 
*' Abel was a keeper of sheep, but Cain was a tiller- 
of the ground. 

The eflTect of the erroneous inflection is peculiarly 
unhappy, as it forms a tone properly associated with 
irony, sarcasm, burlesque, punning, and all other 
forms of equivoque, or with the intention of im- 
parting an unusual significance to a particular word 
or phrase, as when the speaker or reader is peculiar- 
ly anxious to be correctly understood in a nice dis- 
tinction of sense. The morbid jerk of voice with 
which emphasis is thus imparted, disturbs the natural 
current of utterance by a multiplicity of unnecessary 
and unnatural angular turnings. The true melody of 
speech is thus lost in a false and arbitrary intonation- 



INFLECTION. 45 

which has no sanction but the accidental prevalence 
of a local custom. 

The source of the above error being an undue anx- 
iety about emphasis, the fault in accent would be 
cured by adhering strictly to simplicity and directness 
in emphatic expression, and using the single rising 
and falling inflections in all cases of ordinary antithe- 
sis or simple force of utterance. 



SUGGESTIONS FOR PRACTICE.* 

It is not unusual with learners to experience a diffi- 
culty in discriminating between the rising and the 
falling inflection in certain passages. The pupil may, 
in such «ases, be required to throw the given clause 
into the form of a question, so as to catch more read- 
ily the distinction to be made in correct reading. 

In the sentence, ^^Life is short, and art is long," 
the question would run thus, ''Must I say, Life is 
short? or Life is short?" — The slide which is wanted, 
occurs not in the latter, but in the former tone. — If 
the pupil still finds it difliicult to apply the true inflec- 
tion, he may repeat the former question, ''Must I 
say. Life is short?" and immediately say, in the same 
tone of voice, "Life is short. "(?) 

When tlie learner is in doubt as to which inflection 
he has actually used in practice, the question may 
be, " Did I say, Life is short? or Life is short?" — If 
the slide which was adopted echoes to the latter of 
these questions, the wrong inflection was given; and 

* The remarks under this head, though primarily designed for 
the assistance of teachers of young pupils, may prove useful as 
aids to the correction of personal faults in adults. 
4 



46 INFLECTION. 

the example should be repeated with nearly the tone 
which would be employed in asking the question, 
" Must I say, Life is short?" — the interrogatory part 
of which the pupil may put to himself mentally, read- 
ing aloud only the words, *'Life is short." 

This point of discrimination is very important; and 
the table of contrasted inflections should be diligentl}^ 
practised till every example can be readily and cor- 
rectly given. 

The fault of using one inflection uniformly, and that 
of overdoing both inflections, enumerated on a pre- 
ceding page, as the 1st, 2d, and 4th errors of com- 
mon usage, may be removed by selecting* a passage 
of familiar narrative, and requiring the pupil to shut 
the book occasionally, and address the language to 
the teacher, as using it in conversation with him. 

Exercises such as this become doubly important, 
in consequence of the mechanical methods usually 
adopted in teaching the elements of reading, and the 
utter want of adaptation to their purposes, in the books 
commonly employed in this department of education.— 
Reading books, it is true, have, within a few years, 
undergone great improvements in this respect. But 
most are still quite defective in this particular, that 
they contain what adults wish to inculcate on children^ 
and not xvhat childreji naturally incline to express. 

All the current books of this description, are too 
formal and artificial; and many, if not most of the 
pieces which they contain, actually require those 
forced and didactic tones which prematurely ruin the 
elocution of boys, and prevent the possibility of a nat- 
ural eloquence in men. 

Similar results follow the equally absurd practice of 



SUGGESTIONS. 47 

making young boys '* declaim" from political har- 
angues, anniversary orations, and even from didactic 
compositions originally delivered from the pulpit. 
These are the productions of mature minds, and may 
form very good speaking exercises for adults; but 
boys can never practise them without contracting false 
or affected tones. 

The use of the '^ circumflex," or ''wave," seems, 
as already mentioned, to mark universally the local 
tone of emphasis in New England, as contradistin- 
guished from the customary mode of utterance in all 
other parts of the world in which the English lan- 
guage prevails. Accidents of local usage are neces- 
sarily entailed on the youth of a community, in the in- 
tercourse of domestic and social life. A good educa- 
tion, however, should always secure an exemption 
from local peculiarities of intonation. Hence the im- 
portance of an early formation of correct habit, in this 
as well as in other departments of elocution. 

The most efficacious practice for removing the fault 
complained of above, is to revert to the tones of ques- 
tion and answer for illustrations of simple inflection, 
and to repeat one or more examples, throwing the 
first part of each into the shape of a question; thus, 
'' Was Abel a keeper of sheep?" and the latter into 
the form of an answer to a question such as ''What 
was Cain?" — thus, "Cain was a tiller of the ground." 

The wrong inflection having been thus displaced, 
the simple inflections should be reduced from the pe- 
culiar notes- of question and answer to the appropriate 
moderate slides of contrast. 



48 INFLECTION. 



Concluding Remarks on the Theory of Inflection. 

The work of Dr. James Rush on the Philosophy of 
the Voice, gives a masterly analysis of the vocal phe- 
nomena denominated by him the *' slide '^ and the 
''wave/' and by previous writers on elocution usually^ 
designated as ''inflection" and "circumflex." But 
Dr. Rushes object being an exhibition of the philos- 
ophy of the voice, and not of the practical rules of the 
art of reading, the teacher will still derive important 
aid from Mr. Walker's treatise entitled Elocution, as 
well as from his Rhetorical Grammar. 

The rules laid down in these works by that eminent 
authority, however, will be found, in the^department 
of inflection, both complex and artificial. This part 
of Mr. Walker^s system of instruction, has been justly 
complained of by subsequent teachers. Mr. Sheridan 
Knowles, in his Elocutionist^ speaks of a clearer and 
simpler view of this subject as one of the most desir- 
able aids to instruction in reading; and he has him- 
self successfully attempted a great reduction of the 
number of rules on the rising inflectioUa The late 
Rev. Dr. Porter of Andover, has, in his Analysis of 
Rhetorical Delivery, very justly indicated the un- 
necessary complexity of Walker's rules of inflection, 
applied to the reading of series of words and clauses, 
and has, in his own treatise, given to the principle of 
the falling inflection more prominence and simplicity 
of exposition, than any preceding writer on the sub- 
ject of elocution. 

The views of inflection which have been submitte(J 
in the present work, under the head of "rules on the 



THEORY. 49 

falling inflection " will be found, it is hoped, to place 
the subject in a clearer light than hitherto, by tracing 
rules to principles, and thus simplifying the theory of 
elocution, and facilitating the processes of instruction 
and practice. The student who is once put in pos- 
session of a principle, soon acquires a perfect facility 
in applying it as a rule, and is enabled to dispense 
with special instruction and directions. 

The two great principles which seem to regulate 
the application of the falling inflection, or downward 
slide of the voice, are force and completeness of ex- 
pression. From these are deduced all special rules 
of reading, in given passages; and, with a right ap- 
prehension of these, the student will, in a short time^ 
acquire a perfect facility a^ well as precision in all 
the uses of this slide, so as to be able to read, extem- 
pore, with propriety and efllect, all sentences which 
derive their character or significance from this modi- 
fication of the voice. 

Teachers who have made themselves familiar with 
Walker's exposition of inflections, will perceive that 
the author of the present work has omitted the arbi- 
trary distinction enjoined in the reading of the '' sim- 
ple " and the '^ compound series." Walker's direc- 
tion is to read the former with a certain arbitrary 
variety of inflection on its component members, for 
the sake of harmony in sound. Such a mode of read- 
ing seems to be utterly at variance with the great 
principle that the meaning of a passage is the key to 
its intonation. 

A series is a succession of particulars, grouped by 
close connexion in sense, and possessing a temporary 
correspondence and unity. Unity of inflection, there- 
fore, must be the natural indication of the unity of 
4* 



50 INFLECTION* 

thought. Variety may, to a mechanical ear, seem, in 
such cases, an ornament; but true taste would reject 
it as inappropriate, and as interfering with the higher 
claims of meaning. It is the writer, and not the 
reader, who is responsible, in such circumstances, 
for the comparative want of variety and harmony in 
sound. p 

There seems to be, however, a positive objection to 
variety of inflection on the successive members of the 
series; and it is this. To read a long series with the 
variety prescribed by Walker, it is necessary that the 
reader should know beforehand the exact number of 
words contained in it, that he may give the right in- 
flection to each, according to its numerical position. — 
But how can this be done without stopping to count 
them'? If such a rule is to be observed, there can be 
no such thing as correct unpremeditated reading. 

The following may be taken as a specimen of the 
application of the arbitrary rules to which these ob- 
jections have been made. 

''Mr. Lockers definition of wit comprehends meta- 
phors, enigmas, mottoes, parables, fables, dreams, 
visions, dramatic writings, burlesque, and all the 
methods of allusion." 

Studied variety and artificial beauty are no part of 
true refinement: they spring from the pedantry of 
taste. 

Dr. Porter, in his Analysis, very justly observes: 
''All Walker's rules of inflection, as to a series of 
single words, when unemphatic, are worse than use- 
less. No rule of harmonic inflection that is inde- 
pendent of sentiment, can be established without too 
much risk of an artificial habit; unless it be this one. 



CONTRASTED INFLECTIONS. 51 

that the voice should rise at the last pause before the 
cadence; and even this mcij be superseded by em- 
phasis." 

The following passage from Mr. Walker furnishes 
a striking instance of the inconsistencies into which 
the mind is sometimes betrayed by an overweening at- 
tachment to system. '' These rules " (on inflection) 
*' might be carried to a much greater length; but too 
nice an attention to them, in a long series, might not 
only be very difficult, but give an air of stiffness to the 
pronunciation, which would not he compensated by the 
propriety.^' But in the very next sentence—*^ It may 
be necessary, however, to observe that, in a long 
enumeration of particulars, it would not be improper to 
divide them into portions of three,' ^ '^ and this division 
ought to commence from the end of the series P^ 



EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 

TABLE OF INFLECTIONS USED IN CONTRAST.* 

1. Does he mean honestly or dishonestly? 

2. Did he say humour or humour? 
S, Was he to say amber or amber? 

4. Ought he to say ocean or ocean? 

5. Did you say eel or eel? 

* The above table is designed to facilitate the acquisition of the 
two principal slides. The exercise should be practised till the 
student can discriminate and apply them with perfect exactness. 
Young learners will be aided by the practice of marking, with a 
pencil, those of the examples which are left unaccented, — ^previoua 
to which exercise it may be useful to review Rule XL on theJ^aH" 
ingy and Rule I. on the rising inflection. 



52 CONTRASTED INFLECTIONS'. 

6. He does not mean dishonestly but honestljr^ 

7. He did not say humour but humour, 

8. He was not to say amber but amber. 

9. We ought not to say ocean but ocean, 

10. You did not say eel but eel. 

11. He means honestly not dishonestly.^ 

12. He said humour not humour. 

13. He was to say amber not amber. 

14. We ought to say ocean not ocean^ 

15. You said eel not eeL 

16. You are not wood, you are not stones, but men; 

17. Not that I loved Ceesar less, but Rome more. 

18. You shall not in your funeral speech blame us^. 
But speak all good you can devise of Caesar. 

19. Mark Antony shall not love Csssar dead 
So well as Brutus living. 

20. I know no personal cause to spurn at him, 
But for the general. 

21. It was an enemy, not a friend, who did this. 

22. This is the argument of the opponents, and not 
of the friends, of such a measure. 

23. Lady, you utter madness and not sorrow. 

24. I am glad rather than sorry that it is so. 

25. I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. 
26. 1 rather choose 

To wrong the dead,^ to wrong myself and you, 
Than I will wrong such honorable men. 

* Some learners, in practising this class of examples, may need 
to be guarded against the fault of turning the last inflection of 
these sentences into a circumflex, in the mode of New England- 
accent. 



FALLING INFLECTION. 53 

EXERCISES ON THE FALLING INFLECTION. 

Rule I. 

Calling, shouting, exclamation, energetic command: 

1. Up drawbridge, groom! What, warder, ho! 
Let the portcullis fall! 

2. Liberty! freedom! Tyranny is dead! 

Run hence! proclaim, cry it about the streets. 

3. Follow your spirit; and upon this charge, 

Cry — God for Harry !* England ! and St. George ! 

4. Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells: 
King John, your king and England's doth 

approach, — 
Open your gates, and give the victors way. 

5. Arm, arm!t it is, it is the cannon's opening roar! 

6. War! war! no peace! peace is to me a war. 

7. The combat deepens: — On, ye brave 
Who rush to glory or the grave! 
Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave. 

And charge with all thy chivalry. 

8. On them, hussars! in thunder on them wheel! 

9. To horse, you gallant princes! straight to horse! 

10. Then let the trumpet sound 

The tucket sonnance, and the note to mount. 

* The examples not accented in type, are meant to be marked 
by the learner. 

t The inflection on the repeated word is on a lower note than 
the first; the first has a more moderate fall; and the pause be- 
tween the exclamatory words is very slight, as the tone is that of 
agitation, hurry, and alarm. 



54 FALLING INFLECTION. 

Indignant or reproachful address : 
1. Thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward, 
Thou little valiant, great in villainy! 
Thou ever strong upon the stronger side ! 
Thou fortune's champion, that dost never fight 
But when her humorous ladyship is by 
To teach thee safety. 

2. But ohr 



What shall I say to thee. Lord Scroop, thou cruel^ 
Ingrateful, savage, and inhuman creature! 
Thou that didst bear the keys of all my counsels^ 
That knew'st the very bottom of my soul, 
That almost mightst have coined me into gold, 
Wouldst thou have practis'd on me for thy use? 

Challenge and defiance: 

1. ' Who says this? 

Who'll prove it, at his peril, on my head? 

2. Pale, trembling coward, there I throw my gage- 
By that and all the rights of knighthood else. 
Will I make good against thee, arm to arm, 
What I have spoke or thou canst worse devise, 

3. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart. 
Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liesta 

Swearing, adjuration, imprecation: 

1. Now, by my life, this day grows wondrous hot, 

2, Seven, by these hilts, or Pm a villain else. 

3. By the elements. 

If e'er again I meet him beard to beard, 
He is mine or I am his. 



EXERCISES. 55 

4. You know that you are Brutus that speak this, 
Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. 

5. When night 



Closes round the ghastly fight, 

If the vanquish'd warrior bow, 

Spare him: — by our holy vow. 

By our prayers and many tears, 

By the mercy that endears 

Spare him: — he our love hath shar'd — 

Spare him, as thou wouldst be spared! 

6. I conjure you by that which you profess, 
(Howe'er you come to know it,) answer me: 
Though you untie the winds, and let them fight 
Against the churches; though the yesty waves 
Confound and swallow navigation up; 

Though bladed corn be lodg'd, and trees blown 

down; 
Though castles topple on their warder's heads; 
Though palaces and pyramids do slope 
Their heads to their foundations ; though the 

treasure 
Of nature's germins tumble all together, 
Even till destruction sicken, — answer me 
To what I ask you. 

7. Ruin seize thee, ruthless king! 
Confusion on thy banners wait! 

8. Accurs'd be the faggots that blaze at his feet, 
Where his heart shall be thrown, ere it ceases 

to beat! 



-Beshrew thy very heart! 



I did not think to be so sad to-night, 
As this hath made me. 



56 FALLING INFLECTION. 

10. Perish the man whose mind is backward now! 

11. And when I mount, alive may I not light, 
If I be traitor or unjustly fight! 

12 Heaven bear witness; 

And if I have a conscience, let it sink me, 
Even as the axe falls, if 1 be not faithful! 

Accusation: 

1. Look, what I speak, my life shall prove it true: 
That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand nobles 
In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers; 
The which he hath detain 'd for base employments, 
Like a false traitor and injurious villain; 

That all the treasons, for these eighteen years, 
Complotted and concocted in this land 
Fetch from false Mowbray their chief spring and 
head. 

2. And thou, sly hypocrite! who now wouldst seem 
Patron of liberty, who more than thou 

Once fawn'd and cring'd, and servilely ador'd 
Heaven's awful monarch? 

Assertion, declaration, ajffiiination, assurance: 

1. As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true. 

2. Yes, Athenians, I repeat it, you yourselves are 
the contrivers of your own ruin. 

3. I tell you though you, though all the world, 
though an angel from heaven, should declare the 
truth of it, I could not believe it. 

4. When I behold those manly feelings darkened 
by ignorance, and inflamed by prejudice, and blinded 
by bigotry, I will not hesitate to assert, that no mon- 



KXERCISES. 57 

arch ever came to the throne of these realms, in such 
a spirit of direct and predetermined and predeclared 
hostility to the opinions and wishes of the people. 

5, And by the honourable tomb he swears, 
That stands upon thy royal grandsire's bones, 
And by the royalties of both your bloods, 
Currents that spring from one most gracious head. 
And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt, 

And by the worth and honour of himself, — 
Comprising all that may be sworn or said; 
His coming hither hath no farther scope 
Than for his lineal royalties, and to beg 
Enfranchisement immediate on his knees: 
Which on thy royal party granted once. 
His glittering arms he will commend to rust. 
His barbed steeds to stables, and his heart 
To faithful service of your majesty. 

6. Be thou assur'd, if words be made of breath. 
And breath of life, I have no life to breathe, 
What thou hast said to me. 

Tfireatning and warning: 

-If thou speak'st false, 



Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive 
Till famine cling thee: 

But, sirrah, henceforth 



Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer: 
Send me your prisoners with the speediest means, 
Or you shall hear in such a kind from me 
As will displease you. 

3. Return to thy dwelling, all lonely return; 

For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it 
stood, 

5 



58 FALLING INFLECTION. 

And a wild mother scream o'er her famishing 
brood, 

4. And if you crown him, let me prophesy — 

The blood of English shall manure the ground, 
And future ages groan for this foul act; 
Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels, — 
Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny, 
Shall here inhabit, and this land be call'd 
The field of Golgotha. 

Denial y contradiction, refusal: 
1. Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou dost belie him; 
He never did encounter with Glendower. 

2. Cassius, I am a soldier, I, 



Older in practice, abler than yourself 

To make conditions. 

Brutus. Goto: you're not, Cassius. 

Cas, I am. 

Bru, I say you are not. 

3. No lord of thine, thou haught insulting man, 
Nor no man's lord; I have no name, no title, — 
No, not that name was given me at the font, — 
But 'tis usurp'd. 

4. I'll keep them all; 



-he shall not have a Scot of them: 



No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not. 

Earnest intreaty, appeal, remonstrance, expostulation: 

1. O God of battles! steel my soldiers' hearts! 

Not to-day. 

Oh! not to-day, — think not upon the fault 
My father made in compassing the crown! 



EXERCISES, 59 

2. Arm, arm, you heavens! against these perjurM 

kings! 
A widow cries, be husband to me, heavens! 
Let not the hours of this ungodly day 
Wear out the day in peace; but ere sunset, 
Set armed discord, 'twixt these perjur'd kings! 
Hear me, oh! hear me! 

3. Question your royal thoughts, make the case 

yours; 
Be now the father and propose a son; 
Hear your own dignity so much profan'd; 
See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted; 
Behold yourself so by a son disdain'd; 
And then imagine me taking your part, 
And in your power so silencing your son. 

Exhortation, invitation^ temperate command: 

1. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once 

more ; 
Or close the wall up with our English dead. 

2. Stoop, Romans, stoop. 

And let us bathe our hands in Caesar's blood; 
Then walk ye forth, even to the market place; 
And, waving our red weapons o'er our heads, 
Let's all cry peace! freedom! and liberty! 

3. Come forth, O ye children of gladness, come! 
Where the violets lie may be now your home. 
Ye of the rose lip, and the dew-bright eye. 
And the bounding footstep, to meet me fly ! 
With the lyre, and the wreath, and the joyous lay, 
Come forth to the sunshine, — I may not stay. 

4. Come away, servant, come: I am ready now; 
Approach, my Ariel; comej 



60 FALLING INFLECTION. 

5. Go make thyself like to a nymph o' the sea; 
Be subject to no eye but mine; invisible 

To every eye-ball else. Go, take this shape, 
And hither come in't: hence, with diligence! 

Admiration and adoration: 

1. The stars are forth, the moon above the tops 
Of the snow-shining mountains. Beautiful! 

2. These are thy glorious works. Parent of Good, 
Almighty! Thine this universal frame. 

Thus wondrous fair! Thyself how wondrous then! 
Unspeakable! who sitt'st above these heavens, 
To us invisible, or dimly seen 
Midst these thy lowest works! 

3. Thou glorious mirror! where the Almighty's form 
Glasses itself in tempests. 

4. And I have lov'd thee, Ocean! and my joy 

Of youthful sports, was on thy breast to be 
Borne, like thy bubbles, onward — from a boy 

I wanton'd with thy breakers — they to me 
Were a delight. 

5. And this is in the night! Most glorious night! 
Thou wert not sent for slumber! let me be 

A sharer in thy fierce and far delight, — 
A portion of the tempest and of thee! 
How the lit lake shines! — a phosphoric sea — 
And the big rain comes dancing to the earth! 

6. What a piece of work is man! how noble in 
reason! how infinite jn faculties! in form and moving, 
how express and admirable! In action, how like an 
angel! in apprehension, how like a god! 

7. The voice of the Lord is upon the waters: th^ 



EXERCISES. 61 

God of glory thundereth: the Lord is upon many 
waters. The voice of the Lord is powerful; the voice 
of the Lord is full of majesty. The voice of the Lord 
breaketh the cedars ; yea, the Lord breaketh the 
cedars of Lebanon. The voice of the Lord shaketh 
the wilderness; the Lord shaketh the wilderness of 
Kadesh. 



EXERCISES ON RULE II. 

See Table of Contrasted Inflections, 

EXERCISES ON RULE III, 

See Rule III 

EXERCISES ON RULE IV. 

Complete thought in sentences: 

1. The flowers strewed on the grave of merit, are 
the best incense to living worth. 

2. A cheerful mind is not only disposed to be affa- 
ble and obliging, but raises the same good humour 
in those who come within its influence. 

3. It is one great advantage of classical studies, 
that, in acquiring the languages of Greece and Rome, 
we insensibly contract an acquaintance with some of 
the most illustrious characters of antiquity, and are 
partially admitted into their venerable society. 

Complete thought in clauses: 

1. Let your companions be select; let them be 
such as you can love for their good qualities, and 
whose virtues you are desirous to emulate. 

5* 



62 FALLING INFLECTION. 

2. I observed that those who had but just begun 
to climb the hill, thought themselves not far from the 
top; but as they proceeded, new hills were continu- 
ally rising to their view; and the summit of the high- 
est they could before discern, seemed but the foot of 
another: till the mountain, at length, appeared to lose ^ 
itself in the clouds. 

3. This sun, with all its attendant planets, is but a 
very little part of the grand machine of the universe; 
every star, though no bigger in appearance than the 
diamond that glitters on a lady's ring, is really a vast 
globe, like the sun in size and in glory; no less spa- 
cious, no less luminous, than the radiant source of 
the day: so that every star is not barely a world, but 
the centre of a magnificent system; has a retinue of 
worlds irradiated by its beams, and revolving round 
its attractive influence, — all which are lost to our 
sight in unmeasurable wilds of ether. 

Exceptions in poetry : 

1. The fisher is out on the sunny sea; 

And the reindeer bounds o'er the pasture free; 
And the pine has a fringe of softer green, 
And the moss looks bright where my foot hath 
been. 

2. From the streams and founts I have loos'd the 

chain; 
They are sweeping on to the silvery main, 
They are flashing down from the mountain brows, 
They are flinging spray o'er the forest boughs, 
They are bursting fresh from their sparry caves. 
And the earth resounds with the joy of waves! 



EXERCISES. 63 

Concluding series : 

1. The spirit of true religion breathes gentleness 
and affability. 

2. Industry is the law of our being: it is the de- 
mand of nature, of reason, and of God. 

3. You have a friend continually at hand, to pity, 
to support, to defend, and to relieve you. 

4. The characteristics of chivalry, were valour, 
humanity, courtesy, justice, and honour. 

5. Mankind are beseiged by war, famine, pesti- 
lence, volcano, storm, and fire. 

6. A true friend unbosoms freely, advises justly, 
assists readily, adventures boldly, takes all patiently, 
defends resolutely, and continues a friend unchange- 
ably. 

7. True gentleness teaches us to bear one anoth- 
er's burdens, to rejoice with those who rejoice, to 
weep with those who weep, to please every one his 
neighbour for his good, to be kind and tender hearted, 
to be pitiful and courteous, to support the weak, and 
to be patient towards all men. 

Exceptions, in poetry, to the prevalence of the falling 
inflection : 

1. In the hues of its grandeur sublimely it stood 
O'er the river, the village, the field, and the wood. 

2. About me round I saw, 

Hill, dale, and shady woods, and sunny plains, 
And liquid lapse of murmuring streams. 

3. Their glittering tents he pass'd, and now is come 
Into the blissful field, through groves of myrrh, 



64 FALLING INFLECTION. 

And flowering odours, cassia, nard, and balm ; 
A wilderness of sweets. 

4. Sudden mind arose 

In Adam not to let the occasion pass 
Given him by this great conference, to know 
Of things above this world, and of their being 
Who dwell in heaven, whose excellence he saw 
Transcend his own so far; whose radiant forms, 
Divine effulgence ; whose high power so far 
Exceeded human. 

The answer to a question: 

1. Hamlet. Hold you the watch to-night? 
All.^ We do, my lord. 

Ham, Arm'd say you? 
AIL Arm'd, my lord. 
Ham, From top to toe ? 
All, My lord, from head to foot. 
Ham, And fix'd his eyes upon you ? 
Hor, Most constantly. 
Ham, Staid it long? 

Hor, While one, with moderate haste, might 
tell a hundred. 

2. Hamlet. Good sir, whose powers are these? 
Captain, They are of Norway, sir. 
Ham, How purpos'd sir, 

I pray you ? 
Cap, Against some part of Poland. 
Ham. Who 

Commands them, sir? 
Cap, The nephew of old Norway, Fortinbras. 

* Horatio, Bernardo, and Marcellus. 



EXERCISES. 65 



-Show men dutiful? 



Why so didst thou : Seem they grave and learned ? 

Why so didst thou: Come they of noble family? 
Why so didst thou: Seem they religious? 
Why so didst thou. 

Latter member of an antithesis of equal force in its 
constituent parts : 

1. Says he this in jest or in earnest. 

2, Is it the thunder's solemn sound 

That mutters deep and dread, 
Or echoes from the groaning ground, 

The warrior's measur'd tread? 
Is it the lightning's quivering glance, 

That from the thicket streams, 
Or do they flash on spear and lance, 

The sun's retiring beams? 

3. Caesar was celebrated for his great bounty and 
generosity; Cato for his unsullied integrity: the form- 
er became renowned by his humanity and compassion; 
an austere severity heightened the dignity of the latter. 
Caesar was admired for an easy yielding temper; Cato 
for his immovable firmness. 

4. The power of delicacy is chiefly seen in dis- 
cerning the true merit of a work; the power of cor- 
rectness, in rejecting false pretensions to merit. Del- 
icacy leans more to feeling ; correctness more to 
reason and judgment. The former is more the gift 
of nature; the latter, more the product of culture 
and art. 

5. Homer was the greater genius; Virgil, the 
better artist: in the one we more admire the man; in 



66 



RISING INFLECTION. 



the other, the work. Homer hurries us with a com- 
manding impetuosity; Virgil leads us with an attrac- 
tive majesty. Homer scatters with a generous pro- 
fusion; Virgil bestows with a careful magnificence. 
Homer, like the Nile, pours out his riches with a sud- 
den overflow; Virgil, like a river in its banks, with a 
constant stream. 



EXERCISES ON THE RISING INFLECTION. 

Rule I. 

Questions which may be answered by Yes or JYo, 

Is this then worst? 

Thus sitting, thus consulting, thus in arms? 

while they sit contriving, shall the rest, 



Millions that stand in arms, and longing wait 
The signal to ascend, sit lingering here. 
Heaven's fugitives; and for their dwelling-place 
Accept this dark opprobrious den of shame, 
The prison of his tyranny who reigns 
By our delay? 

3. Is there any one who will seriously maintain 
that the taste of a Hottentot or a Laplander, is as 
delicate and as correct as that of Longinus or an Ad- 
dison ? or that he can be charged with no defect or 
incapacity, who thinks a common news-writer as ex- 
cellent an historian as Tacitus ? 

4. Can we believe that a thinking being, which is 
in a perpetual progress of improvements, and travel- 
ling on from perfection to perfection, after having just 
looked abroad into the works of its Creator, and made 



EXERCISES. 67 

a few discoveries of His infinite goodness, wisdom, 
and power, must perish at its first setting out, and in 
the very beginning of its inquiries?* 

JVegative, or less forcible, part of an antithesis: 
See Table of Contrasted Inflections. 

Condition, supposition, concession: 

1. If the parts of time were not variously coloured, 
we should never discern their departure or succession. 
If one hour were like another; if the passage of the 
sun did not show that the day is wasting ; if the 
change of seasons did not impress upon us the flight 
of the year, quantities of duration, equal to days and 
years, would glide unobserved. 

2. Banish gentleness from the earth; suppose the 
world to be filled with none but harsh and conten- 
tious spirits; and what sort of society would remain? — 
the solitude of the desert were preferable to it. 

3. This, though it may make the unskilful laugh, 
cannot but make the judicious grieve. 

Exceptions by emphasis: 

1. If there were no other effects of such appear- 
ances of nature upon our minds, they would teach us 
humility, — and with it they would teach us charity. 

2, If the sun himself which enlightens this part of 

* In long sentences of the interrogatory form, the tone becomes 
n^pid and slight in the utterance of the subordinate parts of the 
question.- The reading falls, in such passages, into the manner of 
parenthesis. This modulation of voice takes place in the above 
example, at the word <« after," and continues to the pause at 
•* power." 



68 RISING INFLECTION. 

creation were extinguished, and all the host of plan- 
etary worlds which move about him were annihilated; 
they would not be missed by an eye that could take in 
the whole compass of nature, any more than a grain 
of sand upon the sea-shore. 

3. A young lady may excel in speaking French 
and Italian; may repeat a few passages from a vol- 
ume of extracts; play like a professor, and sing like 
a siren; have her dressing-room decorated with her 
own drawing-tables, stands, flower-pots, screens, and 
cabinets; nay, she may dance like Sempronia her- 
self; and yet we shall insist that she may have been 
very badly educated. 

Comparison: 

1. As cold water to a thirsty soul, so is good news 
from a far country. 

2. As the door turneth upon his hinges, so doth 
the slothful upon his bed. 

3. He that hath no rule over his own spirit, is like 
a city that is broken down, and without walls. 

Exception by emphasis: 
As a madman who casteth firebrands, arrows, and 
death, so is the man who deceiveth his neighbour, 
and saith, ''Am I not in sport.^" 

Connexion: 

1. I am found, said Virtue, in the vale, and illu- 
minate the mountain: I cheer the cottager at his toil, 
and inspire the sage at his meditation: I mingle in the 
crowd of cities, and bless the hermit in his cell. 

2. I ranged mountains and deserts for images and 



EXERCISES. 69 

resemblances, and pictured upon my mind every tree 
of the forest, and flower of the valley. 

3. Though Homer lived, as is generally believed, 
only two or three centuries after the Trojan war, yet, 
through the want of written records, tradition must, 
by this time, have fallen into the degree of obscurity 
most proper for poetry; and have left him at full lib- 
erty to mix as much fable as he pleased with the re- 
mains of true history. 

Exceptions by emphasis: 

1. He called me a poacher and a villain; and col- 
laring me, desired I would give an account of myself 

2. If the departing from that measure, should not 
remove the prejudice so maliciously raised, I am cer- 
tain that no farther step you can take, will be able to 
remove it; and therefore I hope you will stop here. 

Introductory phrase, or incomplete sense : 

1. For some time after my retreat, I rejoiced, like 
a tempest-beaten sailor at his entrance into the har- 
bour. 

2. When the pleasure of novelty went away, I 
employed my hours in examining the plants which 
grew in the valley. 

3. That the stars appear like so many diminutive 
and scarce distinguishable points, is owing to their 
immense and inconceivable distance. 

4. So little do we accustom ourselves to consider 
the effects of time, that things necessary and certain 
often surprise us like unexpected contingencies. 

5. He that is carried forward, however swiftly, by 

6 



70 RISING INFLECTION. 

a motion equable and easy, perceives not the change 
of place, but by the variation of objects. 

6. I was looking very attentively on that sign in 
the heavens, which is called by the name of the bal- 
ance, when, on a sudden, there appeared in it an ex- 
traordinary light, as if the sun should rise at midnight. 

7. As I was humouring myself in the speculation^ 
of these two great principles of action, I could not 
forbear throwing my thoughts into a kind of allegory 
or fable. 

8. Having with difficulty found his way to the 
street in which his decent mansion had formerly 
stood, his heart became more and more elated at 
every step he advanced. 

Exceptions by emphasis : 

1. That prejudice will sometimes overcast the 
clearest judgements, every day's observation furnishes 
abundant proof. 

2. Addicted to duplicity, even in the earliest years 
of youth, he willingly devoted his maturer years to 
every form of baseness and intrigue. 

3. He who had so nobly sustained himself in the 
darkest hours of adversity, was found unequal to thi& 
favourable turn of fortune. 

Commencing series, — last member: 

1. Dependence and obedience belong to youth. 

2. The yoimg, the healthy, and the prosperous, 
should not presume on their advantages. 

3. Humanity, justice, generosity and public spirit,, 
are the qualities most useful to others. 



EXERCISES. 71 

4. Metaphors, enigmas, mottoes, parables, fables, 
dreams, visions, dramatic writing, burlesque, and all 
the methods of allusion, are comprehended under Mr. 
Locke's definition of wit. 

5. Common calamities and common blessings, fall 
heavily upon the envious. 

6. A generous openness of heart, a calm deliber- 
ate courage, a prompt zeal for the public service, are 
at once constituents of true greatness, and the best 
evidences of it. 

7. The splendor of the firmament, the verdure of 
the earth, the varied colours of the flowers, which fill 
the air with their fragrance, and the music of those 
artless voices which mingle on every tree; all con- 
spire to captivate our hearts, and to swell them with 
the most rapturous delight. 

8. To acquire a thorough knowledge of our own 
heeirts and characters, — to restrain every irregular in- 
clination, — to subdue every rebellious passion, — to pu- 
rify the motives of our conduct, — to form ourselves to 
that temperance which no pleasure can seduce, to that 
meekness which no provocation can ruffle, to that 
patience which no affliction can overwhelm, and that 
integrity which no interest can shake; this is the task 
which is assigned to us, — a task which cannot be 
performed without the utmost diligence and care. 

9. The beauty of a plain, the greatness of a moun- 
tain, the ornaments of a building, the expression of a 
picture, the composition of a discourse, the conduct 
of a third person, the proportions of different quanti- 
ties and numbers, the various appearances which the 
great machine of the universe is perpetually exhibit- 



72 EMPHASIS. 

ing, the secret wheels and springs which produce 
them, all the general subjects of science and taste, 
are what we and our companions regard as having no 
peculiar relation to either of us. 



CHAPTER II. 

EMPHASIS. 

General Observations, Every sentence contains 
one or more words which are prominent, and pecu- 
liarly important, in the expression of meaning. These 
words are marked with a distij^ctive inflection; as may 
be observed by turning to some of the examples in the 
preceding lesson, — those, in particular, which illus- 
trate the reading of strong emotion, or of antithesis. 
The learner will find, on repeating these examples, 
that the words which are pronounced with peculiar 
inflection, are uttered with more force than the other 
words in the same sentences. This special force is 
what is called emphasis. Its use is to impress more 
strikingly on the mind of the hearer the thought, or 
portion of thought, embodied in the particular word or 
phrase on which it is laid. It gives additional energy 
to important points in expression, by causing sounds 
which are peculiarly significant, to strike the ear with 
an appropriate and distinguishing force. It possesses, 
in regard to the sense of hearing, a similar advantage 
to that of ^^ relief," or prominence to the eye, in a 



DEFINITION, 73 

well executed picture; in which the figures seem to 
stand out from the canvass. 

Emphasis, then, being the manner of pronouncing 
the most significant words, its ofhce is of the utmost 
importance to an intelligible and impressive delivery. 
It is the manner of uttering emphatic words which 
decides the meaning of every sentence that is read or 
spoken. A true emphasis conveys a sentiment clearly 
and forcibly to the mind, and keeps the attention of 
an audience in active sympathy with the thoughts of 
the speaker: it gives full value and effect to all that 
he utters, and secures a lasting impression on the 
memory. 

Definition. Emphasis, when strictly defined, 
may be regarded as force of utterance, applied to 
a particular w^ord or phrase, by unusual energy of 
articulation on accented syllables. 

JVofe 1. That emphasis is chiefly a peculiar force 
of accent, will be apparent from the following illus- 
tration. Pronounce the word Begone! in the tone of 
familiar and good humoured expression: then repeat 
it in the tone of vehement or indignant command. In 
either case the first syllable of the word is nearly the 
same as to force. In the former state of feeling, the 
second syllable has very little more than the usual 
proportion of accent; but in the latter, the last syl- 
lable becomes vastly more energetic in comparison 
with the first. The result will be found similar in 
kind, though less in degree, in sentences wdiich con- 
tain the emphasis of distinction or contrast. That 
emphasis should be to the ear merely a relative force 
of accent, is a natural consequence of the state of 



74 EMPHASIS. 

mind which gives rise to this modification of voice. 
The immediate mental cause of emphasis is earnest^ 
ness, or intensity of thought or feeling, which neces- 
sarily leads to forcible utterance, or energetic ar- 
ticulation. The emphatic word is that which em- 
bodies and concentrates this state of mind, for the 
purpose of expression; and the accented syllable of^ 
such a word, as the determining and significant one, 
necessarily absorbs the energy of voice. 

JYbte 2. Emphasis may be termed absolute, when it 
expresses strong emotion, or an idea which does not 
imply contrast.^ Of the former we have examples in 
all sudden and forcible or emphatic exclamations, as 
in the following: '^ Gdds! can a Roman senate long 
debate which of the two to choose, slavery or death?" 
Of the latter, (in which from the absence of emo- 
tion the force of utterance is of course much more 
moderate,) we may select the tone used in desig- 
nating, announcing, or particularising a subject: ^'It 
is my design in this paper to deliver down to poster- 
ity a faithful account of the Italian opera, and of the 
gradual progress which it has made upon the English 
stage." 

Emphasis may be called relative when a comparison 
of things unequal, or a contrast indicating a preference 
or preponderance, is implied or expressed. Thus, 

* «« Emphasis is of two kinds, absolute and relative." «' Abso- 
lute emphasis takes place, when the peculiar eminence of the 
thought is solely — singly considered." Knowles. 

This wider view of emphasis, (and it ought, perhaps, to be ex- 
tended still more,) seems more just than the restricted application 
of it, as given by Walker. 

See farther on this subject Dr. Porter^ s Analysis, 



DEFINITION. 75 

'* My voice is still for ?(Jar." '^A countenance more 
in sd7i^ow than in anger,'' 

Emphasis may be termed correspondent or antithetic, 
when there is a comparison of objects strictly equal, 
or a contrast not implying preference or preponderance. 
Thus, ''As is the beginning so is the end." ''In the 
one we most admire the man; in the other, the work," 

Emphasis is called single, when a contrast is re- 
stricted to two points; as in the following example: 
"We can do nothing against the truth, but /or the 
truth. 

Double and triple emphases are merely double and 
triple contrasts. Thus, " Custom is the plague of icise 
men, and the idol of fools," ^^ A friend cannot be 
known in prosperity, and an enemy cannot be hidden in 
adversity." 

"Emphatic phrase," is the designation of a clause 
in which there are several peculiarly significant or ex- 
pressive icords. " There was a time, then, my fellow- 
citizens, when the Lacedemonians were sovereign 
masters both by sea and land; while this state had 
not one ship — no, not — one — wall." "One of the 
most eminent mathematicians of the age, has assured 
me that the greatest pleasure he took in reading Vir- 
gil, was in examining uEneas's voyage by the map; 
as I question not but many a modern compiler of his- 
tory, would be delighted with little more — in that di- 
vine author — than the bare matters of fact. "^ 

* An unnecessary distinction is sometimes made in books on 
elocution between the above classes of examples ; the former being 
termed «' emphatic phrases," the latter, instances of «« harmonic 
inflection." The difibrence obviously lies in the inflected em- 
phasis applying in the former case to words singly, while, in the 
latter, it extends to clauses. The difierence is that w^hich exists 
between the simplm and the compound series. 



76 EMPHASIS. 

Rule. Pronounce emphatic words with a clear 
and decided forcCj sufficient to render them dis- 
tinctly prominent, and to impart full energy of feel- 
ing, peculiar meaning, or marked discrimination. 

Errors. The prevaiUng fault as regards em- 
phasis, is the omission or slighting of it. 

Hence arises a feebleness of expression, or a gen- 
eral monotony, in consequence of which the voice 
fails in giving those distinctions, or conveying that 
force of feeling, which are inseparable from a distinct 
and animated manner. 

An omission of emphasis leaves the sense of whole 
passages obscure; and an error in the application of 
it, may cause an entire subversion of the meaning in- 
tended to be expressed. A sentence read without 
just emphasis, is an inert mass of sound, like a body 
destitute of life: the same sentence read with the dis- 
crimination and significance of true emphasis, be- 
comes, as it were, a living and active being, exerting 
its appropriate energies. 

The opposite fault is that o( excessive anxiety 
about emphasis, and an unnecessary and formal 
marking of it, by studied force of expression. 

This obtrusive tone is carefully to be avoided, as 
savouring of fastidiousness and pedantry, and indi- 
cating the presumption that the audience are so dull 
in intellect as not to appreciate the force of the speak- 
er's language, unless he remind them of it by pecuUar 
and pointed distinctions of voice. 



SUGGESTIONS. 77 

A fault of local usage^ prevailing throughout 
New-England, is that of giving all emphasis with 
the tone of the circumflex. 

This peculiarity was mentioned under the head of 
inflection, and perhaps sufficiently explained to be 
clearly understood. It is a tone incompatible with 
simplicity and dignity of expression, and belongs 
properly to irony or ridicule, — to the peculiar signi- 
ficance of words and phrases embodying logical or 
grammatical niceties of distinction, — or to the studied 
and pecuHar emphasis which belongs to the utterance 
of a word intended to convey a pun. This fault would 
he avoided by giving emphasis with simple inflection, 
instead of the circumflex. See '^Errors in Inflec- 
tion."^ 



SUGGESTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 

Pupils who fail in force of emphasis, may derive 
great assistance from an exercise founded on Walk- 
er's classification of emphasis, as expressed by the 
phrases '^unaccented," '* accented," and '^ emphatic" 
force. The first of these distinctions applies to the 

* The Rev. Dr. Porter's work on elocution, excellent as it is in 
other respects, seems to sanction this tone in a few instances. 
See J[7ialysis, _p. 84. 

The rising circumflex, however, in the cases alluded to, will be 
found by an attentive observer to constitute the distinguishing ac- 
cent of New-England, — not only as differing from the prevailing 
mode of emphasis in England, but from the current style of ex- 
pression in other parts of the United States, and imparting to the 
voice a peculiar and habitual turn of overdone emphasis. 



78 EMPHASIS, 

degree of force with which we naturally utter par- 
ticles and other less significant words in a sentence 
such as the following: '^Exercise and temperance 
strengthen even an indifferent constitution." The 
words which in this sentence have only the ''unac- 
cented" force, are ''and/' "even," "an." The 
words which possess the second degree of force, or^ 
that which is called "accented," are "Exercise," 
"temperance," " strengthen," " constitution." This 
force they naturally receive as being more significant 
than the words mentioned above. The highest, or 
"emphatic" force, belongs to the distinctive word 
"indifferent," as containing the peculiar meaning of 
the sentence. These three degrees of force, if ex- 
pressed to the eye, in type, would be represented 
thus: Exercise and temperance strengthen even an in- 
different constitution. 

The exercise founded on these comparative degrees 
offeree, is the following. Let the pupil first be per- 
mitted to read a whole sentence with his usual and 
perhaps monotonous utterance; then let him be re- 
quired to repeat the sentence, using the second, or ac- 
cented, degree of force on all words but particles; 
and, lastly, repeating the sentence once more, let him 
add the highest or emphatic force on the word or 
words to which it belongs. This exercise should be 
repeated till the learner has acquired not only the 
power of discrimination as to these degrees of force, 
but the habit of expressing them fully and correctly. 
Mechanical as this exercise may seem, it has a pe- 
culiar intellectual value in securing the attention and 
exercising the judgment of young pupils. 

An exercise more strictly mental in its character, 
will be still more useful, — that of requiring of each 



EXERCISES. 79 

pupil, previous to his reading a sentence, a statement 
of the sentiment in his own words. The object of 
this exercise is to aid in attaining a clear and accu- 
rate conception of the meaning, — the true prepara- 
tion for right emphasis. 

The emphasis o{ emotion may, in part, be communi- 
cated from the teacher's own reading, or to still better 
advantage by conversing with the pupils on the piece 
or passage which is read, so as to bring their minds 
into the right mood of feeling, by an interest in the 
subject. 

The faulty emphasis of circumflex may be removed 
by the discipline of repeated practice on the examples 
given under the head of inflection, and by expedients 
adapted to individual cases. Mutual correction by 
the pupils, will be very important here, as in all other 
departments of elocution. 

EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 

Absolute emphasis in emotion: 

1. fVo! wo! to the riders that trample them down! 

2. Oh! joy for her whene'er in winter 

The winds at night had made a rout. 
And scattered many a lusty splinter, 
And many a rotten bough about! 

3. In the deep stilless of the night. 

When weary labour is at rest. 
How lovely is the scene ! 

4. And when the reapers end the day, 

Tired with the burning heat of noon, 
They'll come, with spirits light and gay, 
And bless thee, — lovely harvest moon. 



80 EMPHASIS^. 

5. On! on, like a cloiid, through their beautiful vales.. 
Ye locusts of tyranny! blasting them o'er! 

6. Oh! what a tale that dreadful chilness told! 

7. Hast thou a charm to stay the morning star 
In his steep course? 

8. Weep, Albyn! to death and captivity led! 

In designation: 

1. The vales are thine: — and when the touch of 
Spring 
Thrills them, and gives them gladness, in thy 

light 
They glitter, — 

The hills are thine: — they catch they newest 
beam, 
And gladden in thy parting, — 
Thine are the mountains, — where they purely lift 

Snows that have never wasted, in a sky 
Which hath no stain; — 

The clouds are thine: and all their magic hues 
Are pencil'd by thee; 

2. But I will not tire my reader's patience by 
pointing out all the pests of conversation: nor dwell 
particularly on the sensible, who pronounce dogmat- 
ically on the most trivial points, and speak m senten- 
ces; the wonder ers, who are always wondering what 
o'clock it is, or wondering whether it will rain or no, 
or wondering when the moon changes; the phrasedlo- 
gists, who explain a thing by all that, or enter into 
particulars with this and that and t'other; and lastly, 
the silent men, who seem afraid of opening their 
mouths, lest they should catch cold. 



EXERCISES. 81 

Relative emphasis: 
[Repeat the second and third classes of examples 
in the Table of Inflections, and the examples of un- 
equal antithesis.] 

1. I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon. 
Than such a Roman. 

2. Slight are the outward signs of evil thought; 
Within — within — 'twas there the spirit wrought! 

3. Did /, base wretch! corrupt mankind? 
The fault's in thy rapacious mind. 

4. Is it for thee the lark ascends and sings? 
Joy tunes his voice, joy elevates his wings. 
The bounding steed you pompously bestride, 
Shares with-his lord the pleasure and the pride. 
Is thine alone the seed that strews the plain? 
The birds of heaven shall vindicate their grain. 
Thine the full harvest of the golden year? 
Part pays, and justly, the deserving steer, 

5. It is not the scene of destruction which is before 
him. It is not the Tiber, diminished in his imagina- 
tion to a paltry stream, flowing amid the ruins of that 
magnificence which it once adorned. It is not the 
triumph of superstition over the wreck of human great- 
ness, and its triumphs erected on the very spot where 
the first honours of humdnity have been gained. It is 
ancient Rdme which fills his imagination. It is the 
country of Ccesar, and Cicero, and Virgil, which is 
before him. It is the mistress of the ivdrld which he 
sees, and who seems to him to rise again from her 
tomb, to give laws to the universe. 
7 



82 EMPHASIS. 

Correspondent and antithetic emphasis: 
[Read the examples and exercises given under the 
corresponding head, in the lesson on Inflections.] 

1. I have always preferred cheerfulness to mirth. 
The latter I consider as an act, the former as a habit 
of the mind. Mirth is short and transient, cheerful^ 
ness fixed and permanent. Mirth is like a flash of 
lightning, that breaks through a gloom of clouds, and 
glitters for a moment; cheerfulness keeps up a kind of 
daylight in the mind, and fills it with a steady and per- 
petual serenity. 

2. The very actions which they have only read I 
have partly seen and partly myself achieved. What 
they know by reading I know by action. They are 
pleased to slight m^ mean birth; I despise their mean 
characters. Want of birth and fortune is the objec- 
tion agsinst me, want of personal worth against them. 

Emphatic phrases : 

1. Upon the whole, I will beg leave to tell the 
House in 3.fexo words what is really m^ opinion. It is, 
that the Stamp Act ought to be repealed- — absolutely 

TOTALLY and IMMEDIATELY. 

2. And were I an American as I am an English- 
man, while a single foreign troop remained in my coun- 
try, I would never lay down my arms: — n^ver — never 

— NIEVER. 



PAUSES. 83 



CHAPTER III. 



PAUSES. 



General Observations. Distinct articulation requires 
slowness of utterance, or that deliberate succession of 
sounds, which enables the hearer to distinguish them 
from one another, and thus to make those discrimina- 
tions in sense, which render what is read or spoken 
intelligible. Distinctness of speech, however, and 
clearness of meaning, require still further aid. It is 
not sufficient that the successive sounds of the voice, 
in letters and syllables, be kept from running into one 
another, and blending so as to cause confusion. A 
due distance must be preserved between those words 
which are not so closely connected in meaning as 
others. The intervals of sound, or cessations of 
voice, thus produced, are termed pauses. Their 
effect on the ear, is similar to that of distance be- 
tween objects in space, to the eye; aiding by the un- 
embarrassed action of the organ, the formation of 
clear and distinct conceptions in the mind. They sep- 
arate, in sound, what we wish to separate in sense; 
and, they serve, on the other hand, by the length or 
shortness of their duration, and the comparative in- 
terval of sound thus produced, to give us the idea of 
more or less intimate connexion between the suc- 
cessive parts of thought, as expressed in one or more 
sentences. 

Pauses may be viewed in another light, — as pro- 
ducing the effect of grouping or throwing together 
those words which are most closely connected in 



84 PAUSES. 

meaning. Pausing has thus a double effect, — that of 
parting those portions of sound which would cause 
confusion, if united; and, at the same time, of joining 
those which would produce an incorrect signification, 
if separated. The cessation of the voice, therefore, 
at proper intervals, has the same effect nearly on 
clauses and sentences with that of articulation on syl-^ 
lables, or of pronunciation on words: it serves to 
gather up the sounds of the voice into relative por- 
tions, and aids in preserving clearness and distinction 
among them. But what those elementary and organic 
efforts do for syllables and words, — the minor portions 
of speech, — pausing does for clauses, sentences, and 
entire discourses. The great use of pauses is to di- 
vide thought into its constituent portions, and to leave 
the mind opportunity of contemplating each distinctly^ 
so as fully to comprehend and appreciate it, and, at 
the same time, to perceive its relation to the whole. 
Appropriate pauses are of vast importance, there- 
fore, to a correct and impressive style of delivery; 
and without them, indeed, speech cannot be intel- 
ligible. 

Pausing has, farther, a distinct office to perform in 
regard to the effect of feeling as conveyed by utter- 
ance. Awe and solemnity are expressed by long ces- 
sations of the voice; and grief, when it is deep, and 
at the same time suppressed, requires frequent and 
long pauses. 

The general effect, however, of correct and well- 
timed pauses, is what most requires attention. The 
manner of a good reader or speaker is distinguished, 
in this particular, by clearness, impressiveness, and 
dignity, arising from the full conception of meaning, 
and the deliberate and distinct expression of it; 



DEFINITION. 85 

while nothing is so indicative of want of attention and 
of self-command, and nothing is so unhappy in its 
effect, as haste and confusion. 

Definition. Pauses are the intervals produced 
between words, clauses, sentences, and paragraphs, 
by those divisions of utterance which correspond 
to the portions of the sense.* 

JVb^e. The frequency with which pauses are to be 
introduced, cannot be regulated by the grammatical 
punctuation, which regards the syntactical structure 
of sentences, rather than the mode of pronouncing 
them; and which, though it is often coincident with 
the rhetorical or vocal pauses, is not uniformly so. 
Thus we have a comma or grammatical stop between 
the following words in writing: ''No, sir" — but none 
in speaking; — the phrase being pronounced nearly as 
one word, and producing the same sound to the ear 
as any word of two syllables, accented on the first. 
The following example, on the other hand, contains 
no grammatical stop; yet it requires, in appropriate 
reading, a long rhetorical pause between the words. 
''He woke ^ ^ ^ to die." 

The length of a pause is not dependent on the value 

* The '* definitions" and «< introductory remarks" in each part, 
are expressed, rather with a view to their impression on young 
minds, than with a regard to that conciseness which might be 
preferable in a book intended for adults. The extent, therefore, 
to which explanation^as been sometimes carried, is not owing to 
any intrinsic difficulty in the subject, but to the desire of attract- 
ing the learner's attention to the nature and importance of particular 
branches of elocution, and especially of those in which the young 
are most apt to fail. 

7# 



86 PAUSES. 

of the grammatical stops, as is commonly taught, but 
on the meaning of what is read or spoken, as em- 
phatic or otherwise, and on the kind of emotion, as 
naturally slow or rapid in utterance, and as requiring 
long or short cessations of voice. In equable and 
calm expression, the pauses are moderate; in ener- 
getic language, when didactic or argumentative, the 
pauses are rendered long by the force of emphasis 
preceding them; in strong and deep emotion, they 
run to the extremes of brevity and of length, as the 
tone of passion happens to be abrupt and rapid, or 
slow and interrupted, in utterance. We may find, 
accordingly, the pauses made at the same grammati- 
cal stop of very different lengths in the same passage, 
or even in the same sentence, according to the turns 
of thought and feeling indicated by the language. 
There may be, in fact, as mentioned before, a long 
rhetorical pause where no grammatical stop could be 
used. 

Vocal pauses are uniformly the result of emphasis; 
every emphatic word having, as it were, an attractive 
power, by which it clusters round it more or less of 
the words preceding or following it; and the cessa- 
tion of the voice which is called a pause, is but a 
natural and necessary consequence of the organic 
effort used in uttering such a collection of sounds, 
embracing, as it always does, one syllable, at least, 
which demands a great impulse of the organs, and 
exhausts, in some cases of great energy in language, 
the supply of breath required for utterance. 

This fact regarding the effect of emphasis on 
pausing, may be traced, though to an extent compara- 
tively moderate, even in the secondary degree of em- 
phasis, or that which Walker has termed accented 



NOTE. 



S7 



force. By pronouncing the sentence used as an ex- 
ample of that author's classification of emphasis, it 
will be found that a pause, distinct and observable, 
though short, follows every word to which this de- 
gree of force belongs, and that each of these words 
attracts or unites to itself, in pronunciation, the ''un- 
accented" word or w^ords preceding it: — the same 
thing would happen with unaccented words following an 
accented one, but closely connected with it in mean- 
ing. '' Exercise and temperance strengthen even an 
INDIFFERENT constUution.^^ This sentence, if divided 
to the eye, in type, as it is divided to the ear by the 
voice, would run thus: '' Exercise and temper- 

ance strengthen even an indifferent con- 

stitution;" or perhaps more strictly thus, ''Exercise 

and temperance strengthen evenanindifferent- 
constitution." 

Whatever holds true, in this respect, of words pos- 
sessing accented force, is still more strikingly so, 
when applied to those which are spoken with emphatic 
force; as may be observed by making a slight change 
on the form of the above sentence, so as to introduce 
the emphatic word where the pause which follows it 
may become perceptible. Thus, 'Even an indiffer- 
ent constitution is strengthened by exercise and tem- 
perance,' — expressed to the ear thus: " Evenan- 
mBJTFEREi^Tconstitution is strengthened by 

exercise and temperance. 

This sentence forms so short an example, that it 
contains only the minor pauses of discourse, — those 
which are not expressed at all, in grammatical punc- 
tuation. But the application of the principle is still 
more apparent, when the sentences are long and the 
clauses numerous, and, consequently, the grammati- 



88 PAUSES. 

cal stops frequent. That emphasis is the key to 
pausing, will be fully apparent, by reverting to the 
preceding example, and observing the great length of 
pause intervening between the nominative and the 
verb, in this instance, compared to what takes place 
in the original form of the sentence. 

The meaning and the ear, then, and not the punc-- 
tuation, are to guide us in pausing, — any farther than " 
the latter happens to coincide with the former. Nor 
will there be any more difficulty thus occasioned in 
reading or speaking, than there is in conversation, in 
which, the idea of attending to pauses by any fixed 
mechanical rule, would be felt to be absurd. All 
that needs peculiar attention in reading and speaking,. 
as far as pausing is concerned, is this: that the greater 
force and slowness of utterance naturally required in 
these exercises, when performed in public, (implying 
a large space to be traversed by the voice,) and the 
more regular — perhaps, more formal — phraseology of 
written language, demand, even in private reading, 
longer and more frequent pauses than occur in con- 
versation. Still it is the sense of what is read or 
spoken, and no arbitrary system of punctuation, that 
is to guide the voice in this as in all other respects. 

Rule I. Make the same pauses in reading a 
sentence that would be used in expressing the sen- 
timent which it embodies^ if given in the same 
words in conversation ; using, however^ in decla- 
mation, or in public reading, the pause naturally 
required by the greater energy of utterance. 

This general rule may be applied in detail as fol- 
lows, in circumstances in which the grammatical stop 



RULES. 



89 



does not usuallij occur. ^ The pause will of course be 
much longer, if, in any case, an emphatic word is sub- 
stituted for one possessing only accented force. 

1. A slight pause, sometimes called the ^^ rhetorical, ^^ 
(to distinguish it from the grammatical pause,) takes 
place between the principal verb in a sentence, and the 
word or words which express the subject of the sentence^ 
or form the nominative to the verb,— when the word if 
single, conveys an important idea, or when the nomina^ 
tive consists of several words, or is followed by other 
words dependent on it. 

Examples. 
''The day | |has been considered as an image of 
the year, and a year | as the representation of life. 
The morning | answers to the spring, and the 
spring I to childhood and youth; the noon 1 cor- 
responds to the summer, and the summer | to the 
strength of manhood. The evening | is an emblem 
of autumn, and autumn | of declining life. The 

* These subordinate rules are given — not because they are 
deemed indispensably necessary, apart from the general rule of 
pausing according to the sense, but from their importance to 
young learners, whose customary habit of rapidity often prevents 
them from attending to distinct and appropriate pausing, as a part 
of the expression of sentiment. The particular applications of the 
general rule, contained in these subordinate ones, may afford use- 
ful practice in connexion with that view of pausing which makes 
it dependent on emphasis; and, by the influence of repetition, 
may suggest analogies in circumstances in which the reader has 
not enjoyed the advantage of a previous perusal of the piece which 
he is to read. 

t The pauses which illustrate the rule are indicated by the 
above mark. 



90 PAUSES. 

night I shows the winter, in which all the powers of 
vegetation are benumbed, and the w'inter [ points 
out the time when life shall cease." 

'^Hatred and anger | are the greatest poison to 
the mind." 

*^ Our schemes of thought in childhood | are lost 
in those of youth." ^ 

£. Jl brief phrase occurring between the nominative 
and the verb, is separated from both by a short pause. 
Ex. ''AH floats on the surface of that river which 
I with swift current | is running towards a bound- 
less ocean." 

3. tR phrase occurring between an active verb arid 
the word which it governs, is separated as above. 

Ex, ''I saw I standing beside me | a form of 
diviner features and a more benign radiance." 

4. *R phrase occurring between one verb and another 
which it governs in the infinitive mood, is separated from 
the latter, 

Ex. ''Whether 'tis nobler in the mind j; to suffer 
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, 
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, 
And by opposing | end them." — 

5. Jl short pause takes place cohere the parts of a 
sentence might be transposed. 

Ex. " The greatest misery is | to be condemned 
by our own hearts." 

6. When an adjective fottoivs its substantive, it is 
parted from it by a short pause. 

Ex, " It was a calculation j accurate to the last 
degree." 



RULES. 91 

7. When one substantive is made dependent on another 
by a preposition, and is folloiced by other words in close 
connexion, a short pause taJces place before the prepo- 
sition, 

Ex. '*I would rather look upon a tree in all its 
luxuriance and diffusion | of boughs and branches, 
than when it is cut and trimmed into a mathematical 
figure." 

8. Relative pronouns, conjunctions, and prepositions, 
and all other parts of speech used for transition or con" 
nexion, are preceded by a short pause. 

Ex, ^'Nothing is in vain | that rouses the soul 
to activity." 

*'I must be pardoned for this short tribute to the 
memory of a man | who, while living, would as 
much detest to receive any thing that wore the ap- 
pearance of flattery, as I should to offer it." 

''Homer's style^ is more simple | and animated; 
Virgil's^ more elegant | and uniform." 

'^ The former has, on many occasions, a sublimity 

I to which the latter never attains." 

''We were to drag up oceans of gold | from the 
bottom of the sea." 

"There is nothing which we estimate so falla- 
ciously I as the strength of our own resolutions." 

"What ought to be done | while it yet hangs 
only in speculation, is plain and certain." 

"His character requires | that he estimate the 
happiness of every condition." 

* In order to avoid confusion, the rhetorical pause is marked, in 
«ach instance, in that place only which exemplifies the rule. 



92 PAUSES. 

9. Jl short pause takes place at an ellipsis or omis- 
sion of words. 

Ex, '' Homer was the greater genius, Virgil 
I the better artist." 

Rule IL A full and long pause, — several times 
the usual length of that of a period, — is required 
between paragraphs, particularly when these con- 
tain important divisions of a subject or a discourse, 
in which case they may be properly prolonged to 
double their own usual length. 

The comparative length of this pause depends on 
the character of the piece, as grave and serious or fa- 
miliar and light, and on the length and importance of 
paragraphs as principal or subordinate. In general, 
it should not be shorter than twice the length of the 
pause usually jnade at a period. 

Errors. The common fault in regard to pauses, 
is that they are made too short for clear and dis- 
tinct expression. 

Feeble utterance and defective emphasis, along 
with rapid articulation, usually combine to produce 
this fault in young readers and speakers. For, what- 
ever force of utterance or energy of emphasis, or 
whatever rate of articulation we accustom ourselves 
to use, our pauses are always in proportion to it. 

Undue brevity in pausing has a like bad effect with 
too rapid articulation: it produces obscurity and con- 
fusion in speech, or imparts sentiment in a manner 
which is deficient and unimpressive, and prevents the 



SUGGESTIONS. 93 

proper effect both of thought and language. To be 
fully convinced how much of the clearness, force, and 
dignity of style, depends on due pauses, we have only 
to advert for a moment to the effect of rapid reading 
on a passage of Milton, and observe what an utter 
subversion of the characteristic sublimity of the author 
seems to take place. This instance is, no doubt, a 
strong and peculiar one. But a similar result, though 
less striking, may be traced in the hurried reading of 
any piece of composition characterised by force of 
thought or dignity of expression. 

SUGGESTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 

When habitual rapidity of voice and omission of 
pause, are difficult to correct, the learner may be re- 
quired to accompanij the teacher^s voice in the practice 
of sentences. This simultaneous reading, if suffi- 
ciently long continued, will probably prove effectual 
for the cure of habitual faults. A second stage of 
progress may be entered on, when the learner's im- 
provement will warrant it; and he may be perm.itted 
to read after the teacher. 

Pupils who possess an ear for music, may be taught 
to observe that there is in reading and speaking a 
*' time," as distinct and perceptible, and as important, 
as in singing, or in performing on any instrument; 
and that pauses are uniformly measured with refer- 
ence to this time. The poetry of Milton v/ill furnish, 
in the sonorous flow of its language, the best matter 
for exercises in regular pausing, that can be found in 
any English author. But the selection of passages, 
must, of course, be adapted to the capacity of the 
reader. 

8 



94 PAUSES. 

Exercises in simultaneous reading, embracing en- 
tire classes, may be useful in teaching large numbers 
of pupils; as the necessity of timing the movement of 
the voice, and regulating the duration of pauses, is in: 
such circumstances fully felt; and not, unfrequently, 
an individual who has little control over the rate of 
his own voice, when reading alone, will gain a great < 
power over it, when acting under the impulse of sym- 
pathy in simultaneous reading. When this form of 
practice is adopted, ihe length of every pause may be 
determined by a motion of the teacher.^ 

Pieces for practice may be selected as follows : 
first, for frequent and long pauses, passages from 
Ossian, or other authors abounding in grand and 
gloomy description; secondly, for pauses not so fre- 
quent or so long a& in the preceding style, but still of 
considerable length, — passages from Thomson's Sea- 
sons, or any other descriptive poem to which the ca- 
pacities of learners may be thought adequate. De- 
clamatory pieces in poetry or in prose, may be taken 
as the next sta>ge of practice; and didactic discourses 
or essays may succeed to these. In both of these last- 
mentioned kinds of exercise, however, the selection of 

* Much time must necessarily be spent in training some pupils 
to just and discriminating pauses. Carelessness and haste in ex- 
pression, seem to be natural tendencies of voice, with the young; 
and early neglect is so prevalent in whatever regards the exercise 
of speech, that incorrect habit is fully formed, in most instances, 
long before the learner has become capable of distinguishing be- 
tween right and wrong, and their necessary consequences, in thi& 
department of elocution. It becomes important for the teacher ,^^ 
therefore, to commence and continue his efforts as a reformer 
rather than an instructer, and to devise and adopt many mechan« 
ical expedients which would be unnecessary but for the existence 
©f erroneous habit. 



TONES ANJD MODULATION. 9S 

matter for practice, will, in the case of young pupils, 
require much attention, lest, from the thoughts and 
the language being either unintelligible or uninterest- 
ing, the reading may be performed merely as a verbal 
exercise, and with those uniform and mechanical 
pauses which form a prominent fault in what is called 
the ''scfiool-boy " style. Familiar pieces in the nar- 
rative and descriptive styles, should form the la^ 
stage of practice in this department. 



CHAPTER IV. 

TONES AND MODULATION. 

General Observations. The preceding parts of this 
work refer chiefly to those modifications of voic^ 
which are used in &e expression oi' thought, and which 
are addressed to the understanding, ratheJ* than the 
feelings. The chief use of inflections, emphasis, and 
pauses, is to regulate vocal expression with reference 
to meaning in general, or the sense of particular 
words, clauses, and sentences. But there are other 
qualities of voice to be considered in the full expres- 
sion of a sentiment, — those which indicate /eeZmg* or 
emotion, rather than intellectual distinctions ; and 
which, though they naturally accompany, with more 
or less vividness, all our thoughts, yet admit of being 
considered separately from them, in an analysis or 
examination of vocal expression. These qualities of 



96 TONES AND MODULATION. 

voice are comprehended under the name of tones 
and modulation: their office is to impart the states of 
mind corresponding to the emotions of joy, grief, fear, 
courage, anger, hatred, pity, love, awe, reverence, 8lc. 
In poetical and empassioned language, tones are 
often the most prominent and the most important qual- 
ities of voice; and to give these with propriety, force^ 
and vividness, is the chief excellence of good reading 
or recitation. The language of prose, being gener- 
ally less imaginative and exciting, does not require 
the extent and power of tone used in poetry. But as 
true feeling is, in both cases, the same in kind, though 
not in degree, and as no sentiment can be uttered 
naturally without the tone of its appropriate emotion, 
and no thought, indeed, can arise in the mind without 
a degree of emotion; a great importance is attached, 
even in the reading or speaking of prose composition,^ 
to those qualities of voice comprehended under the 
name of tones. Without these, utterance would de- 
generate into a merely mechanical process of articu- 
lation. It is these that give impulse and vitality to 
thought, and which constitute the chief instruments of 
eloquence. 

Definition. Tones are those qualities of voice 
which express emotions considered singly. Modu- 
lation is the variation of voice in successive tones, 
and consecutive passages. 

JYote, Tones may be considered individually or 
singly, as occurring in particular passages, or per- 
vading a whole piece, when the tenor of the language 
implies but one prevalent feeling or emotion. Thus, we 
may take, as an example of a single tone, the strain 



DEFINITION. 97 

of utterance prevailing in Milton's L' Allegro, which 
is that of gaiety, cheerfulness, and mirth, or that of 
the same author's II Penseroso, which is in the vein 
of melancholy, grave musing, and deep contempla- 
tion. In either case, th« reading or recitation pre- 
sents to the ear one predominating tone. Composi- 
tions, on the other hand, which express a succession 
of various emotions, call forth a corresponding variety 
of tones; and the voice may be contemplated in its 
movements not only as giving utterance to each of 
these singly, in an appropriate manner, but as chang- 
ing itself, so as to become adapted to each in succes- 
sion, and thus assuming, at every stage of feeling, a 
new character. The varied modulation so produced 
would be exemplified in Collins's Ode on the Passions, 
or Dryden's St. Cecilia's Day,— in both of which, the 
number and variety of emotions introduced, cause a 
perpetual varying of tone in the reading. 

Single Tones. 

Every tone may have its chief characteristics class- 
ed under the three following heads: force, pitch, and 
rate. 

1st. Force, — regarding the impulse of sound, and 
characterising a tone as loud, faint, or moderate in 
utterance. 2d. Pitch, — regarding the strain of voice 
in which words are uttered as on high, low, or middle 
notes of the musical scale. 3d. Rate, — regarding the 
utterance or the articulation as rapid, slow, or mod- 
erate. 

Forcible and loud tones belong to the following and 

simildLV forcible feelings or emotions: joy, courage, ad- 

miration, when strongly expressive, — anger, indigna^ 

Hon, revenge, terror, 
8# 



98 TONES AND MODULATION. 

Gentle, soft, or iveak tones characterise fear, when 
not excessive, — pity, love, admiration, in its moderate 
expression, — tenderness, grief and sorrow, when not 
excessive, — all of which imply comparative /eetZeness 
of feeling. Fear and grief in excess, become loud. 

Low notes, as naturally coinciding with deep feelings 
are the appropriate expression o^ awe, sublimity , solem- 
nity, reverence, amazement, indignation, anger, when " 
grave and deep, — horror. 

High notes belong to the extremes oi joy, and of 
grief; they characterise the tone of terror; they pre- 
vail, also, in pathetic and tender expression. They 
occur, sometimes, in violent anger and in scorn. 

Slowness characterises the ton^s of grave and se- 
date feeling — aive, sublimity, solemnity, reverence, pity, 
admiration, and grief, when deep and subdued, rather 
than violent. 

Rapidity marks the tones of excited and agitated 
feeling, — anger, eagerness, hurry, confusion, fear, ter- 
ror, joy, and sometimes g'He/', when strongly expressed. 

The various tones of the voice, if classed in the 
form of a regular scheme, or table, by their promi- 
nent characteristics oi force, pitch, and rai^e, maybe 
arranged thus: 

Loud, high, quick; B.sjoy, &c. 
Soft, low, slow; as aive, &c. 

Strong emotion inclines to the extremes of tone, in 
all these qualities. Thus, if we take the tones of re- 
venge and of pity, as examples of the manner in which 
the preceding classification is applied to single tones, 
we shall find the former distinguished by loud utter- 
ance, a loiv pitch, and a rapid articulation; as may be 
observed in the following passage: 



DEFINITION. 99 

^^Revenge^ re\renge!" Timotheus cries; * ^ * 
*' Give the vengeance due 
To the valiant crew!" 

The tone of pity, on the contrary, has a soft or faint 
utterance, a high note, and a sloiv rate, 

'^ Swung in his careless hand, she sees 

(Poor ewe!) a dead, cold weight, 
'The little one her soft, warm fleece 
So fondly cherish 'd late.'^ 
Moderate emotions, or tranquil states of mind, are 
distinguished by a moderate force, the middle pitch, 
and a moderate rate; as in the following example: 
*' When breezes are soft, and skies are fair, 
I steal an hour from study and care, 
And hie me away to the woodland scene, 
Where wanders the stream with waters of green; 
As if the bright fringe of herbs on its brink 
Had given their stain, to the wave they drink." 

The same general class of tones predominates in 
the reading of common narration or description, in 
prose. 

''Being now resolved to be a poet, I saw every 
thing with a new purpose ; my sphere of attention was 
suddenly magnified: no kind of knowledge was to be 
overlooked. I ranged mountains and deserts for 
images and resemblances, and pictured upon my mind 
every tree of the forest and flower of the valley. I 
observed with equal care the crags of the rock and 
the pinnacles of the palace. Sometimes I wandered 
along the mazes of the rivulet, and sometimes watch- 
ed the changes of the summer clouds." 

The moderate order of tones prevails also in the 
style of essays and discourses. 



100 TONES AND MODULATION. 

" If the relation of sleep to night and, in some in- 
stances, its converse, be real, we cannot reflect with- 
out amazement upon the extent to which it carries us. 
Day and night are things close to us, the change ap- 
plies immediately to our sensations; of all the phe- 
nomena of nature it is the most obvious, and the most 
familiar to our experience: but in its causes it be- 
longs to the great motions which are passing in the 
heavens. Whilst the earth glides round her axle, 
she ministers to the alternate necessities of the ani- 
mals dwelling upon her surface, at the same time that 
she obeys the influence of those attractions which 
regulate the order of many thousand worlds. The re- 
lation, therefore, of sleep to night, is the relation of 
the inhabitants of the earth to the rotation of their 
globe: probably it is more; it is a relation to the sys- 
tem of which that globe is a part; and, still further, 
to the congregation of systems, of which theirs is only 
one. If this account be true, it connects the meanest 
individual with the universe itself; a chicken roosting 
upon its perch, with the spheres revolving in the 
firmament." 

Successive Tones, 

The tones of the voice are now to be considered as 
occurring in succession, according to the various sen- 
timents introduced in the course of the composition; 
and producing that frequent and easy variation of the 
voice^ by which it changes in force, pitch, and rate, 

* Tone and «' modulation" are usually presented as distinct and 
separate qualities in the management of the voice. This arrange- 
ment is unfavourable to a natural cultivation of vocal expression. 
It renders modulation more difficult than it really is, by represent- 



DEFINITION. 101 

accommodating itself to the varying character of the 
language, giving to every shade of thought and emo- 
tion its appropriate utterance, and forming a stream 
of voice which deepens or expands, retards or accel- 
erates its current, and shifts its course, according to 
the varying flow of style. The general tone of read- 
ing is thus made to resemble that of free and animated 
conversation on interesting subjects. 

The importance of this principle of adaptation of 
voice, may be perceived by adverting to the fact, that 
nothing so impairs the effect of delivery, as the want 
of spirit and expression in elocution. No gravity of 
tone, or intensity of utterance, or precision of enun- 
ciation, can atone for the absence of that natural 
change of voice, by which th« ear is enabled to re- 
ceive and recognise the tones of the various emotions 
accompanying the train of thought which the speaker 
is expressing. These, and these only, can indicate 
his own sense of what he utters, or communicate it by 
sympathy to his audience. The adaptation of the 
voice to the expression of sentiment, is not less im- 
portant, when considered in reference to meaning, as 
dependent on distinctions strictly intellectual, or not 
necessarily implying a vivid or varied succession of 
emotions. The correct and adequate representation 

jng it as necessarily a different thing from tone, an attainment 
which occurs late in the order of acquisition^ and as one for which 
a young learner is not responsible. Variation of tone being thus 
neglected in the early stages of instruction and practice, a hard, 
unmeaning and wearisome monotony is unavoidably contracted, 
which it becomes difficult to throw off, when at last felt to be an 
evil; and is even then displaced, for the most part, by forced at- 
tempts at a rhetorical variety, as far removed from nature and 
true taste as the measured sameness of school reading. 



102 TONES AND MODULATION, 

of continuous or successive thought, requires its ap- 
propriate intonation ; as may be observed in those 
tones of voice which naturally accompany discussion 
and argument, even in their most moderate forms. 
The modulation or varying of tone is important, also, 
as a matter of cultivated taste: it is the appropriate 
grace of vocal expression. It has a charm founded., 
in the constitution of our nature; it touches the finest 
and deepest sensibilities of the soul; it constitutes the 
spirit and eloquence of the human voice, whether re- 
garded as the noblest instrument of music, or the ap- 
pointed channel of thought and feeling. 

The pitch of voice which may be referred to most con- 
veniently, as a standard, is that of animated conversation. 
The average force of voice may be taken as that which 
is sufficient for appropriate and intelligible utterance. 
The middle^ or common rate of articulation, is that 
which prevails in moderate emotion. Variation, then, 
is to be understood as any departure from one or all 
of these, towards either extreme of utterance, whether 
loud or faint, high or low, fast or slow, — or as a trans- 
ition or passing from one ^extreme to another of one 
or more of these qualities. Strong emotion will re- 
quire marked, and great, and, sometimes, sudden 
changes; whilst, in moderate emotion, the changes 
will be slight and gradual. 

The variation required in passing from one degree 
of force to another, is termed modulation;^ the change 
from one note or pitch to another, transition; — from 
one movemerd to anotbei', as fast or slow, — change of 
rate. 

The following passage from Collins'^ Ode will afford 

* This term, however, is often used, in a wide sense, for vari- 
ation in general 



EXAMPLES. 103 

a good example of variation. In passing from the 
tone of Melancholy to that of Cheerfulness, it will be 
observed that the voice changes from a faint utter- 
ance, low note, and slow rate, to a strain which is 
comparatively /orci6/e, high^ and rapid. 

Melancholy : 
* ' Through glades and glooms the mingled measure 

stole. 
Or, o'er some haunted stream, with fond delay, 

Round an holy calm diffusing. 

Love of peace and lonely musing, 
In hollow murmurs died away. 

Cheerfulness : 
But, O! how altered was its sprightlier tone, 
When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue. 

Her bow across her shoulder flung, 
Her buskins gem'd with morning dew, 

Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket 
rung! — 
The hunter's call, to Faun and Dryad known." 

The variations which take place in the reading of 
2)rose depend, of course, on the variety of the style 
and the character of the language. In some pieces 
abounding in varied emotion and figurative expression, 
the manner being nearly that of poetry, the tones of 
voice become assimilated to it by vivid and frequent 
modulation, sudden and great transitions, and a con- 
tinually varying rate of utterance. From this extreme 
of style in composition and in delivery, we may 
descend through various stages, till we come to the 
ordinary manner of prose, in which we find plain Ian- 



104 TONES AND MODtTLATION. 

guage prevailing, but interspersed occasionally with 
figurative and descriptive passages, which call for va- 
riation of tone, in order to produce a natural and ap- 
propriate expression. 

The changes which occur in animated narration 
and description, may be exemplified in the following 
extract. 

1. ''As I was once sailing in a fine stout ship 
across the banks of Newfoundland, one of the heavy 
fogs that prevail in those parts, rendered it impossible 
for me to see far ahead, even in the day-time; but at 
night the weather was so thick, that we could not dis- 
tinguish any object at twice the length of our ship. — 
2. I kept lights at the masthead, and a constant 
watch forward to look out for fishing smacks, which 
are accustomed to lie at anchor on the banks. — 3. The 
wind was blowing a smacking breeze, and we were 
going at a great rate through the water. — 4. Suddenly 
the watch gave the alarm of ' a sail ahead!' but it was 
scarcely uttered, till we were upon her. — 5. She was 
a small schooner at anchor, v/ith her broadside towards 
us. — 6. The crew were all asleep, and had neglected . 
to hoist a light. — 7. We struck her just amid-ships. — 
8. The force, the size, and weight of our vessel, bore 
her down below the waves; we passed over her, and 
were hurried on our course. 

9. As the crashing wreck was sinking beneath us, 
I had a glimpse of two or three half-naked wretches, 
rushing from her cabin; they had just started from 
their beds to be swallowed shrieking by the waves. — • 
10. I heard their drowning cry mingling with the 
wind.— 11. The blast that bore it to our ears swept 
us out of all further hearing.— 12. I shall never for- 
get that cry! — 13. It was some time before we could 



EXAMPLES. 105 

put the ship about, she was under such headway. — 
14. We returned, as nearly as we could guess, to 
the place where the smack was anchored. — 15. We 
cruised about for several hours in the dense fog. — 
16. We fired several guns, and listened if we might 
hear the halloo of any survivors; but all was silent — 
we never heard nor saw any thing of them more!" 

The principal changes of tone in the appropriate 
reading of this piece, are the follov/ing: — a change of 
force and rate occurs on leaving the moderate tone 
with which a narrative generally commences, and 
which continues till circumstances of interest are in- 
troduced. The moderate commencing tone prevails 
in the first two sentences of the first paragraph, and 
is succeeded in the third sentence, ''The wind was 
blowing," &c. by a tone of greater force and quicker 
rate, but not abruptly introduced. This change arises 
from the increasing animation and interest of the nar- 
rative, and corresponds, in force and vivacity, to the 
nature of the circumstance mentioned in the sentence. 

The next sentence, (4.,) '' Suddenly the watch 
gave the alarm," Sec. opens with an abrupt and sud- 
den change to the tone of alarm and agitation, which 
is marked by rapid, forcible, and hurried articulation, 
and a higher note than that of the preceding sentence. 

The next change is at the clause ''but it was 
scarcely uttered," &c. The voice drops at once to the 
deep and slow tone of awe and horror, but passes, at 
the close of the sentence, into the hurried tone of 
terror. 

In the next two sentences, (5. and 6.,) the strain of 
ordinary narrative is resumed; the tone resembling 
that used at the commencement of the piece. The 
9 



106 TONES AND MODULATION. 

voice rises, then, in pitch, and returns to the moderate 
degrees oi force and rate. 

In the short sentence, (7.,) ^^ We struck her," &c. 
the voice assumes the same tone as at the clause^ 
*^till we were upon her;" adding the force of partic- 
ular and earnest description, which gives great inten- 
sity to the tone. The change here, then, is from the^ 
moderate qualities oi utterance to great force, low pitch, 
and comparatively quick rate. 

The change in the next sentence, (8.,) is chiefly 
that to a slower rate; the voice adapting itself in this 
way to the dilation of the description. Great energy 
and the low pitch still prevail. 

Ai the clause, ''we passed over her," &c. the tone 
varies to one approaching the common manner of nar- 
rative; the circumstance introduced being mentioned 
as one inevitable and necessary. As the associations 
of the mind, however,^ are still those of awe and pity, 
the utterance is very slow,_ the pitch inclines to a low 
note, though higher than before, and the force is mod- 
erate. A slight acceleration and increase of force take 
place at the close, '' and were hurried on our course." 
This as well as other changes which have been men- 
tioned, are owing to the natural sympathy of the mind^ 
arising from the interest excited by what is described. 
Care must always be taken, however, that this mod- 
erate and natural influence on the tone of the voice 
be not displaced by exaggeration and false extremes 
of expression. The utterance of feeling ever requires 
the exercise of discriminating judgement and true taste. 

The commencing sentence of the second para- 
graph, (9.,) is characterised by a progressive increase 
of force, a pitch gradually dropping, and a rate of ut-- 
terance constantly accelerating till the close. This- 



EXAMPLES. 107 

change is produced by the succession of circumstan- 
ces of awe and terror, heightening from point to point, 
till they reach a climax. The tone of terror mingling 
with awe, as it becomes more and more intense, 
grows louder, lower, and more rapid in utterance. 
This tone is necessarily acquired from the sympathy 
of the mind with the scene presented to it; unless the 
reading proceeds from a mere mechanical attention to 
the words rather than the thoughts of the writer. 

The next sentence, (10,,) deepens the tone produced 
by the preceding, and, for the hurried expression of 
terror, substitutes the s/ot(; manner o^ solemnity, and its 
more moderate utterance as io force. 

The tone changes, in the next sentence, (11.,) to a 
strain approaching that of ordinary narration, and re- 
sembling very closely that of the clause, ^^we passed 
over her," which occurred near the close of the first 
paragraph. The utterance is, in all respects, mod^ 
crate, but inclines still to slowness. 

The short sentence that follows, (12.,) repeats the 
tone of that beginning, '' I heard their drowning cry," 
&c. but with still more intensity in all respects; the 
emotion being that of horror, which is expressed by 
the greatest depth and force of utterance, uniting with 
the utmost slowness. 

The ordinary style of serious narrative — that of 
moderate utterance in all respects— returns at the next 
sentence, (13.,) and continues till the phrase, '' but all 
was silent," in the last sentence, (16.,) which takes the 
low notes, slow utterance, and subdued force of solem- 
nity. The concluding clause contains all these quali- 
ties more pecidiarly marked, as the emotion passes from 
solemnity to aive. The emphatic manner of the con- 



108 TONES AND MODULATION. 

elusion, however, implies more energy of utterance 
than belongs to the preceding clause.^ 

The lively interest of narrative compositions pro- 
duces more striking and more numerous variations of 
voice, than are usually required in the style of essays 
or discourses. But, even in this class of writings,, 
there are frequent and obvious changes of tone, ari- 
sing from the nature of the thoughts which are ex- 
pressed, and their connexion and relations in the 
order in which they are presented to the mind. The 
following passage may be taken as an example. 

1. '^Even looking forward to a single day, the 
spirit may sometimes faint from an anticipation of the 
duties, the labours, the trials to temper and patience, 
that may be expected.— 2. Now this is unjustly lay- 
ing the burden of many thousand moments upon 
one, — 3. Let any one resolve always to do right noWy 
leaving then to do as it can; and if he were to live to 
the age of Methuselah, he would never do wrong. — 
4. But the common error is to resolve to act right 
after breakfast, or after dinner, or to-morrow morn- 
ing, or next time; but noiu, just now^ this once, we must 
go on the same as ever. 

5, It is easy, for instance, for the most ill-tempered 
person to resolve that the next time he is provoked he 
will not let his temper overcome him; but the victory 
would be to subdue temper on the present provoca- 
tion. — 6. If, without taking up the burden of the fu- 
ture, we would always make the single effort at the 

* The learner will perhaps acquire a more distinct idea of vari- 
ation by repeating, in the manner described, the whole extract, 
before proceeding to other points in this lesson. 



EXAMPLES. 109 

present moment; while there would at any one time 
be very little to do^ yet, by this simple process con- 
tinued, every thing would at last be done. 

7. It seems easier to do right to-morrow than to- 
day, merely because we forget that when to-morrow 
comes, then will be now. — 8. Thus life passes with 
many, in resolutions for the future which the present 
never fulfils." 

The chief modifications of voice in this piece are 
as follows. The tone of the first sentence is in the 
deliberate and distinct manner with which a piece in 
the didactic style usually commences ; the object 
being generally a clear and correct communication of 
thought, rather than the expression of emotion; or, 
at least, the former preponderating in the utterance. 
In the reading of narrative and descriptive pieces 
there is less danger of misapprehension or mistake, 
and the greater interest naturally attached to these 
forms of writing, more readily secures the attention. 
No effort, therefore, is required on the part of the 
reader, in commencing a piece, to produce the right 
effect; and the tone, when appropriate, intimates no 
anxiety for the result. Didactic compositions, on the 
contrary, being often designed to express distinctions^ 
of thought, to enforce truth, or inculcate opinions, 
naturally require a more attentive and exact style of 
reading, distinguished more by distinct enunciation, 
correct emphasis, and appropriate pauses, as the nat- 
ural characteristics of intellectual expression. The 
tone of didactic reading, therefore, differs from that 
of narration or description, in commencing with a 
fuller degree of energy, and a more regular sloivness 
of articulation; as the very first point in a train of 

thought is of the utmost importance to a clear ^nd coo:* 
9# 



110 tONES AND MODlTLAtlON. 

rect conception of the whole, and requires a full and 
distinct expression. 

The tone of the second sentence differs from that of 
the first, in commencing on a loiv strain, and gracU 
ttally rising towards the close, — a tone arising from 
the argumentative character of the sentence, and its 
close connexion with the preceding. The same man-^ 
ner of commencing prevails in the third and fourth 
sentences, and also in the opening of the second para- 
graph, for the same reason as before. This last sen- 
tence being intended as an illustration or example to 
the preceding, and thrown in somewhat as a paren- 
thesis commonly is, — suspending, for a moment, the 
train of thought, — it is to be read in the parenthetic 
manner of loiv note, diminished force, and quicker rate 
of utterance. 

The second sentence of the second paragraph re- 
turns to the general style of thought throughout the 
piece, and is not so closely connected with antece- 
dent meaning as the sentences which precede it. 
The tone, of voice, therefore, resumes the ordinary 
strain of didactic expression, as at the commence- 
ment of the first sentence. In passing, accordingly, 
into this sentence, from the preceding, the utterance 
becomes higher in pitch, is increased in force, and 
adopts a slower rate. 

The third paragraph commences with a sentiment 
still more general than that expressed in the pre- 
ceding sentence. The tone of voice will conse- 
quently be of the same character as before, but 
with an additional degree of each quality. 

The concluding sentence of the extract forms the 
conclusion of a train of thought, and is read with the 
tone of a closing remark — on a lower strain of voice^ 



ERRORS. Ill 

with 3. forcible though somewhat moderated utterance, 
and a sloiv, deliberate movement. These character- 
istics in the tone are rendered more distinct, in this 
instance, by the serious and impressive cast of thought 
introduced in the sentence. 

Errors. The common faults, in single tones, 
are, 

1st. A mechanical unmeaning sameness of 
voice, v^hich indicates the absence of appropriate 
feeling, and deprives spoken language of its natu- 
ral expression, by divesting it of the tones of feeling. 

2d. A want of force and vividness in tone, 
though otherwise appropriate, — a fault which ren- 
ders delivery feeble, uninteresting, and unim- 
pressive. 

3d. An excessive force of tone, usually attend- 
ed by a mouthing or a drawling manner, — a style 
utterly repugnant to correct taste, and subversive 
of genuine emotion. 

4th. A7i habitual and personal tone, which 
characterises the individual speaker merely, and is 
not the appropriate expression of feeling, but rather 
interferes with and prevents it. 

The first two of these faults would be avoided by 
entering deeply and fully into the sentiment which is 
expressed in the language of the piece read or spoken. 
This can be done only by giving to it that earnest and 
steadfast attention, which is required to produce in- 
terest and sympathy in the mind, — the true source of 
appropriate and natural tones. 



112 TONES AND MODULATION. 

The third error arises from the habit of allowing 
the attention to float on the stream of language, in- 
stead of directing it to the thoughts expressed in what 
is read. The harmonious succession of the words, 
and not the force or beauty of the ideas, becomes in- 
voluntarily the object which occupies the mind; and 
hence arises a measured and rythmical flow of tone, 
adapted to clauses and sentences according to their 
sound, rather than their sense. This fault is usually 
exemplified in the recitation of poetry, or in the 
speaking of declamatory pieces in prose, and par- 
ticularly on "exhibition" occasions, at schools and 
colleges. This habit of tone would be overcome by 
directing the attention to the thought as exclusively 
as possible; — not suffering the mind to linger upon 
the phraseology, but endeavouring to attune the ear 
to a style of delivery flowing from the energy and 
harmony of thought, rather than of expression. 

The fourth class of errors, being as various as 
the habits of individuals, cannot be specifically de- 
scribed. They are necessarily points of attention be- 
tween teachers and pupils individually. 

Among the errors which may be traced in the 
tones of the voice; when considered as occurring 
in succession^ is an inflexible sameness of voice> 
varying nothing in pitch, force, or rate; — words 
and sentences being merely pronounced as so 
many groups of syllables, and no change of note of 
of tone indicating any transition of thought or 
feeling. 

Another error lies in an aflfected and rhetorical 
manner, which introduces arbitrary changes of 



RULES. 113 

tone, without regard to meaning ; the voice of the 
speaker rising and faUing, swelhng and diminishing 
at intervals, merely for the sake of variety to 
the ear. 

The bad consequences of these faults are obvious. 
By monotony in reading we lose as much nearly as 
we should in conversation by pronouncing every word 
exactly in the same key: the voice becomes insipid 
and childish in its tone; meaning is entirely extracted 
from it; sense is sacrificed to timidity or awkward- 
ness of habit; and the mental power of utterance is 
exchanged for a dull and lifeless uniformity of organic 
exercise, — unworthy of a human being, and resem- 
bling rather the reiterated sound of a machine. 

Rhetorical affectation, on the other hand, is dis- 
gusting in its effect; it obscures or changes meaning 
by ill-judged and unnecessary variations of voice; it 
obtrudes the speaker to the exclusion of his subject, 
and substitutes a ridiculous parade of art for the 
simple and unstudied eloquence of nature. 

Rule I. Let every tone have its true and full, 
but chaste expression, — whether that of energy and 
loudness, or of pathos and tenderness. 

II. Let the tone vary with the sentiment in 
successive clauses and sentences. 

III. In the tones of energetic dehvery let there 
be no mouthing force or drawling sound. 

IV. Guard against false inflections and wrong 
eadences. 

V. Sentences characterised by moderate emo- 



114 TONES AND MODULATION. 

tiori; but which are nearly related in signification, — 
whether by direct connexion, as intimated by a 
conjunction, or in the particularising, amplifying, 
or illustrating of one thought by another, — are read 
with a tone which preserves, at the opening of 
every new sentence, the lowest note of the ca- 
dence of the preceding sentence. 

VI. Sentences not connected as above, re- 
quire a new pitch at the commencement of each, 
expressive of a new or unconnected thought. This 
pitch should be more or less high, as the idea em- 
bodied in the sentence is more or less distinct from 
those contained in that which precedes it, or the 
sentiment is more or less grave in its character, 
and inclines accordingly to a low tone.^ 

SUGGESTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 

Instructors commonly consider this branch of elocu- 
tion as one of late and difficult attainment, or as a 
finishing accomplishment in this department of edu- 
cation, and accordingly omit it entirely in early in- 
struction. As a consequence of this neglect, juve- 
nile tones in reading are usually so defective, that 
nothing is more common than to desio-nate a mechan- 
ical and inexpressive style of voice as a '' school-boy " 
tone. The origin of faults of this description is not 
in the difficulty of the thing itself, but in the meth- 
ods which are adopted in teaching, and the gen- 

* The last two rules may be illustrated by referring to the 
second prose extract given as an illustration of successive tones. 



StJGGESTIONS. 115 

eral custom of requiring that school-boys should 
read what they either do not fully understand or 
cannot take an interest in. This last circunistance 
is, in fact, the great cause of the prevalence of un- 
meaning and inappropriate tones at school. For let 
the young be required to read only what is adapted 
to their capacities and taste; and, if wrong habit has 
not become previously fixed by wrong exercises, the 
vivacity of the young mind, and the fresh and pliant 
tones of the juvenile voice, will give an expression in- 
finitely more true and eloquent than we ever hear 
from adults. 

Early practice in modulation is of the utmost im- 
portance, as the foundation of good habit; and this 
department of elocution, instead of being deferred till 
late in the course, should be introduced as early as 
possible, and cultivated with the utmost attention. 
It is in the very earliest stage of education that the 
false tone so commonly heard in school, is con- 
tracted; and the recent improvement in elementary 
books, affords at least a few pieces, in most, which 
young readers feel to be natural to their minds, and 
which they can read with true tones. Lessons of 
this sort should be repeatedly and carefully read, for 
practice in tones, apart from the other objects of read- 
ing, with a view to direct the attention of young learn- 
ers more clearly and more successfully to this point. 

The first object of attention in practising, in this 
department of elocution, should be to eradicate faulty 
personal tones, as influenced by habits of utterance, 
articulation, inflection, emphasis, or cadence. The 
imitation of incorrect tones may sometimes be neces- 
sary, to give the learner a distinct conception of his 



116 TONES AND MODULATION. 

fault. This may be done by the teacher or by the 
pupils mutually, as may seem expedient. 

The next point is to succeed in producing force and 
appropriateness in tone and facility in variation. 
One expedient for this purpose is by frequent illus- 
trations and repetitions to impress on the pupil's mind 
the difference between true and false tones of voice, — ^ 
those of dignified conversation, and those of familiar 
talk, or of mechanical and monotonous reading. 
Another means of rectifying errors of this class, 
is, by interesting conversation and illustrative anec- 
dote to bring the learner's mind into the right mood 
of emotion, for the full expression of sentiment; and 
this is peculiarly important when pieces have been 
previously and repeatedly read, as a matter of rou- 
tine, till the attention has become dull and the feel- 
ings indifferent. 

The pupil's own attentive study of the meaning of 
what he reads, however, is tb^ b^st security for natural 
force and variation of tone. Little improvement can 
be made in intonation, till the learner has acquired 
the power of abstracting his attention from a mechan- 
ical enunciation of the words he is reading, and can 
fix his mind with such force on the thoughts as to 
make them his own. He must get rid of the idea of 
words and phrases, clauses and sentences, and fasten 
on the mental objects presented to him; so that he 
may express these as if they rose before him at the 
moment of utterance. Sameness of tone arises from 
too exclusive attention to words. In the mechanical 
and monotonous exercise of adding syllable to sylla^ 
ble, and word to word, the free play of the mind is 
lost, and its power over the voice consequently di- 
minished. This effect is a very natural result of the 



SUGGESTIONS. il7 

usual method of instruction in the elements of read- 
ing; and to shake off the habits caused by such influ- 
ence, is the first step towards improvement. 

The teacher may, by his selection of exercises in 
reading, do much to favour the acquisition of easy 
and natural tones of the voice; if care is only taken 
that no piece be read which is above the comprehension 
•of young readers, or not adapted to their taste. Mo- 
notonous dulness and forced variety of tone, are 
equally caused by promiscuous and inappropriate 
reading. Where the mind has not the command of 
thought and feeling, it will naturally flow into a me- 
chanical attention to words; and in reading or speak- 
ing, the tones of the voice, (as they are always a true 
echo to the actual state of feeling,) will indicate the 
fact by formal and unmeaning utterance. 

In practising on particular passages which are 
found difficult, the teacher must show the pupil the 
nature of the tone or of the variation required — by 
practical illustration; guarding, however, against the 
pupil's imitating or rather mimicking his teacher's 
tone, instead of acquiring one of his own; since a 
natural manner, though tame, is preferable to one 
which borrows its liveliness from affectation. 

A great advantage may be derived from illustrations 
drawn from the tones of music, when pupils possess a 
sufficient knowledge of that art; — its terms being 
more definite and exact than those of elocution. 

Exercises in dialogue and in dramatic pieces, if ju- 
diciously selected, are of great practical utility, as 
means of imparting animation and variety of tone. 
10 



118 TONES. 

EXERCISES. 

SINGLE TONES. 

Force or loudness: 

1. Again to the battle Achaians! 

Our hearts bid the tyrants' defiance. 

* # # we've sworn, by our country's assaulters, 
By the virgins they've dragg'd from our altars, 

By our massacred patriots, our children in chains, 

By our heroes of old, and their blood in our veins. 
That living, we will be victorious, 
Or that dying, our deaths shall be glorious, 
A breath of submission we breathe not. 
The sword that we've drawn we will sheath not; 

Its scabbard is left where our martyrs are laid. 

And the vengeance of ages has whetted its blade. 
Earth may hide — waves ingulph — fire consume us, 
But they shall not to slavery doom us: — 

If they rule it shall be o'er our ashes and graves. 

But we've smote them already with fire on the waves, 
And new triumphs on land are before us; — 
To the charge! — Heaven's banner is o'er us, 

2. Scots who have with Wallace bled, 
Scots whom Bruce has often led, 
Welcome to your gory bed 

Or to victory ! 
Now's the day and now's the hour; 
See the front of battle lower, 
See approach proud Edward's power, 

Chains and slavery! 
Who would be a traitor knave ? 
Who would fill a coward's grave? 



EXERCISES. 119 

Who so base as be a slave? 

Let him turn and flee! 
Who for Scotland's king and law 
Freedom's sword will strongly draw, — 
Freeman stand or freeman fall? 

Let him on with me! 
By oppression's woes and pains, 
By your sons in servile chains, — 
*' We will drain our dearest veins 

But they shall be free." 

Lay the proud usurpers low; 
Tyrants fall in every foe, 
Liberty's in every blow, — 
'' Let us do — or die." 

Softness orfaintness of utterance: 
There is no breeze upon the fern, 

No ripple on the lake; 
Upon her eyrie nods the em, 

The deer hath sought the brake; 
The small birds will not sing aloud. 

The springing trout lies still; 
So darkly glooms yon thunder cloud. 
That swathes, as with a purple shroud, 

Benledi's distant hill. 

# ^ # # # 

There breathed no wind their crests to shake, 

Or wave their flags abroad, — 
Scarce the frail aspen seemed to quake 

That shadowed o'er their road. 
No cymbal clash'd, no clarion rang. 

Still were the pipe and drum; 
Save heavy tread and armours clang, 

Their sullen march was dumb. 



120 TONES. 

2. All silent they went for the time was approaching^ 
The moon the blue zenith already was touching;: 
No foot was abroad on the forest or hill, 

No sound but the lullaby sung by the rill! 

3. The heavens are all blue; and the billow's bright 

verge 
Is frothily laved by a whispering surge, 
That heaves incessant a tranquil dirge, 
To lull the pale forms that sleep below: — 
Forms that rock as the waters flow. 

That bright lake is still as a liquid sky: 
And when o'er its bosom the swift clouds fly, 
They pass like thoughts o'er a clear, blue eye. 
The fringe of thin foam that their sepulchre binds. 
Is as light as the clouds that are borne by the winds. 
Soft over its bosom the dim vapours hover 
In morning's first light: and the snowy-wing'^d 
plover, 
That skims o'er the deep 
Where my loved ones sleep, 
No note of joy on this solitude flings; 
Nor shakes the mist from his drooping wing&^ 

Low pitch of utterance: 
I. Not a drum was heard, nor a funeral note, 
As his corse to the rampart we hurried; 
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot 
O'er the grave where our hero we buried r: 

We buried him darkly, at dead of night, 
The sods with our bayonets turning, 

By the struggling moonbeams misty light, 
And the lantern dimly burning. 



EXERCISES. 121 

Slowly and sadly we laid him down, 

From the field of his fame fresh and gory; 

We carved not a line, we raised not a stone, — 
But we left him — alone with his glory! 

2. An everlasting hill was torn 

From its primeval base, and borne, 
In gold and crimson vapours drest, 
To where a people are at rest. — 
Slowly it came in its mountain wrath; 
And the forests vanish'd before its path; 
And the rude cliffs bowed; and the waters fled; 
And the living were buried, while over their head 
They heard the full march of their foe as he sped; — 
And the valley of life was the tomb of the dead, 
The mountain sepulchre of all I lov'd! 
The village sank; and the giant trees 
Lean'd back from the encountering breeze, 
As this tremendous pageant mov'd. 
The mountain forsook his perpetual throne, 
And came down in his pomp: and his path is shown 
In barrenness and ruin; — there 
His ancient mysteries lie bare; 
His rocks in nakedness arise; 
His desolations mock the skies. 

S. The curfew tolls— the knell of parting day, 
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea. 
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, 
And leaves the world to darkness and to me. 

Now fades the glimmering landscape from the sight, 
And all the air a solemn stillness holds. 

Save where the beetle wheels his drony flight, 
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds. 
10* 



122 TONES. 

Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower, 
The moping owl does to the moon complain 

Of such as wandering near her secret bower. 
Molest her ancient solitary reign. 

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-trees' shade^ 
Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering 
heap. 

Each in his narrow cell for ever laid. 
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 

High pitch r 

1. But thou, O Hope! with eyes so fafr — • 

What was thy delighted measure? 
Still it whisper'd promis'd pleasure. 
And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail? 
Still would her touch the strain prolong ; 

And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, 
She call'd on Echo still through all her song: 
And where her sweetest theme she chose, 
A soft responsive voice was heard at every close; 
And Hope enchanted smil'd, and wav'd her golden 
hair. 

2. Come hither, hither, my little page ; 

Why dost thou weep and wail? 
Or dost thou dread the billow's rage. 
Or tremble at the gale? 

But dash the tear-drop from thine eye; 

Our ship is swift and strong: 
Our fleetest falcon scarce can fly. 

More merrily along. 

3. Stay, lady — stay, for mercy *s snke,^ 

And hear a helpless orphan's tale: 



EXERCISES. I8S 

Ah! sure my looks must pity wake — 
'Tis want that makes my cheek so pale! 

Yet I was once a mother's pride, 
And my brave father's hope and joy: 

But in the Nile's proud fight he died — 
And I am now an orphan boy. 

Poor, foolish child; how pleas'd was I 

When news of Nelson's victory came, 
Along the crowded streets to fly. 

To see the lighted windows flame! 
To force me home my mother sought — 

She could not bear to see my joy! 
For with my father's life 'twas bought — 

And made me a poor orphan boy! 

Oh! were I by your bounty fed! — 

Nay, gentle lady, do not chide; 
Trust me, I mean to earn my bread — 

The sailor's orphan boy has pride! 
Lady, you weep: — what is't you say? 

•'You'll give me clothing, food, employ!" 
Look down, dear parents, look, and see 

Your happy, happy orphan boy! 

Slow rate of utterance : 
1. Here rests his head, upon the lap of earth, 

A youth to fortune and to fame unknown; — 
Fair science frown 'd not on his humble birth; 

And melancholy mark'd him for her own. 
Large was his bounty and his soul sincere; 

Heaven did a recompense as largely send: 
He gave to misery all he had — a tear; 

He gain'd from heaven — 'twas all he wished, — 
a friend. 



124 TONES. 

No further seek his merits to disclose, 

Or draw his fraiUies from their dread abode; — - 

There they alike in trembling hope repose, 
The bosom of his Father and his God. 

2, O Thou that rollest above, round as the shield 
of my fathers! whence are thy beams, O Sun! thy 
everlasting light? Thou comest forth in thy awful 
beauty; the stars hide themselves in the sky; the 
moon, cold and pale, sinks in the western wave. But 
thou thyself movest above! Who can be a companion 
of thy course? The oaks of the mountains fall: the 
mountains themselves decay with years: the ocean 
shrinks and grows a^ain: the moon herself is lost in 
the heavens: but thou art for ever the same, rejoicing 
m the brightness of thy course. When the world is 
dark with tempests, when thunder rolls, and light- 
ning flies, thou lookest in thy beauty from the clouds, 
and laughest at the storm, — But to Ossian thou look- 
est in vain ; for he beholds thy beams no more, 
whether thy yellow hair floats on the eastern clouds, 
or thou tremblest at the gates of the west. But thou 
art, perhaps, like me, for a season; thy years will 
have an end. Thou shalt sleep in thy clouds, care- 
less of the voice of the morning. Exult then, O Sun! 
in the strength of thy youth — Age is dark and un- 
lovely: it is like the glimmering light of the moon, 
when it shines through broken clouds, and the mist is 
on the hills; when the blast of the north is on the 
plain, and the traveller shrinks in the midst of his 
journey. 

Quick rate of utterance : 
1. Come, thou nymph! and bring with thee 
Mirth and youthful Jollity; 



EXERCISES. 125 

Quips and cranks and wanton wiles; 
Nods and becks and wreathed smiles; 
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, 
And love to live in dimple sleek: 
Sport that wrinkled Care derides, 
And Laughter holdinoj both his sides: 
Come, and trip it as ye go 
On the light fantastic toe; 
And in thy right hand bring with thee 
The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty. 

2. But, O how altered was its sprightlier tone, 
When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue. 

Her bow across her shoulder flung, 
Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew, 

Blew an inspiring air that dale and thicket rung! 

The hunter's call, to Faun and Dryad known. 
The oak-crown'd Sisters and their chaste-eyed 

Queen, 
Satyrs and sylvan boys, were seen, 
Peeping from forth their alleys green: 
Brown exercise rejoic'd to hear; 
And Sport leaped up, and seized his beechen spear. 

3. And there was mounting in hot haste — the steed. 
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car. 
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed 
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; 
While the deep thunder, peal on peal, afar. 
And near, the beat of the alarming drum, 
Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; 
While throng the citizens with terror dumb, 

Or whispering with white lips, ''The foe! — they 
come — they come." 



126 TONES. 

4, Forth from the pass in tumult driveHy 
Like chaff before the winds of heaven^ 

The archerj appear: — 
For life, for life their flight they ply, 
While shriek and shout and battle-cryv 
And plaids and bonnets waving high, 
And broadswords flashing to the sky. 
Are maddening in their rear. 

Middle pitch, moderate force and ratei 
1. Beneath a mountain's brow, the most remote 
And inaccessible by shepherds trod, 
In a deep cave, dug by no mortal hand, 
A hermit lived; a melancholy man, 
Who was the wonder of our wandering swainsv 
Austere and lonely, cruel to himself, 
Did they report him; the cold earth his bed. 
Water his drink, his food the shepherd's alms. 
I wert to see him ; and my heart was touch'd 
With reverence and with pity. Mild he spake; 
And, entering on discourse, such stories told. 
As made me oft revisit his sad cell. 
For he had been a soldier in his youth; 
And fought in famous battles, when the peers 
Of Europe, by the bold Godfredo led 
Against the usurping infidel, display'd 
The blessed cross, and won the Holy Land. 
Pie as 'd with my admiration, and the fire 
His speech struck from me, the old man would 

shake 
His years away, and act his young encounters: 
Then having showed his wounds, he'd sit him dowa 
And all the live-long day discourse of war. 
To help my fancy, in the smooth green turf 



EXERCISES. 127 

He cut the figures of the marshaU'd hosts; 
Dcscrib'd the motions, and explain 'd the use 
Of the deep column, and the lengthened line, 
The square, the crescent, and the phalanx firm; 
For all that Saracen or Christian knew 
Of war's vast art, was to this h^rnait knows. 

I. My thoughts, I must confess, are turn'd on peace; 
Already have our quarrels fill'd the world 
With widows and with orphans: Scythia mourns 
Our guilty wars; and earth's remotest regions 
Lie half unpeopled by the feuds of Rome. 
^Tis time to sheath the sword and spare mankind. 
It is not Caesar, but the gods, my fathers, 
The gods declare against us, and repel 
Our vain attempts. To urge the foe to battle, 
(Prompted by blind revenge and wild despair,) 
Were to refuse the awards of Providence, 
And not to rest in Heaven's determination. 
Already have we shown our love^o Rome; 
Now let us show submission to the gods. 
We took up arms, not to revenge ourselves. 
But free the commonwealth. When this end fails, 
Arms have no further use. Our country's cause 
That drew our swords, now wrests them from our 

hands. 
And bids us not delight in Roman blood 
Unprofitably shed. What men could do, 
Is done already. Heaven and earth will witness, 
If Rome must fall, that we are innocent. 

3. History is not only a valuable part of know- 
ledge, but opens the door to many other parts of 
knowledge, and affords materials to most of the sci- 
ences. And, indeed, if we consider the shortness of 



128 MODULATION. 

human life, and our limited knowledge of what passes 
even in our own time, we must be sensible that we 
should be for ever children in understanding, were it 
not for this invention, which extends our experience 
to all past ages, and to most distant nations, making 
them contribute as much to our improvement in wis- 
dom as if they had actually lain under our observa-^ 
tion. A man acquainted with history, may, in some 
respect, be said to have lived from the beginning of 
the world, and to have been making continual ad- 
ditions to his stock of knowledge. 

SUCCESSIVE TONES. 

Variatio7i: 

|]A11 the preceding examples of single tones, may b^ 
used as exercises in successive tones, in the following 
manner. Let the pupil commence with the first ex- 
ample on Force, and immediately after reading it^ 
pass to the first example of Softness or Faintness; ob- 
serving carefully and expressing fully the change of 
tone thus produced. The first example of Middle 
Pitch, Moderate Force and Rate, may be read next; 
the change being observed as before. The second 
example of each quality may then be read in the same 
manner; next the third, and so on. For further 
practice the order of the exercises may be inverted; 
and the examples may all be repeated, in order to fa- 
cilitate the power of changing the tone with sudden- 
ness, and in exact adaptation to any transition of 
thought or emotion.] 

'' The Sinking Ship.'' 
Her giant form 
O'er wrathful surge, through blackening storm, 



i:xERCisEs. 129 

Tuajestically calm, would go 
Mid the deep darkness white as snow! 
But gentler now the small waves glide, 
Like playful lambs o'er a mountain's side. 
So stately her bearing, so proud her array, 
The main she will traverse for ever and aye. 

any ports will exult at the gleam of her mast! 

Hush! hush! thou vain dreamer! this hour is 
her last. 
Five hundred souls, in one instant of dread 
Are hurried o'er the deck. 
And fast the miserable ship 
Becomes a lifeless wreck. 
Her keel hath struck on a hidden rock, 
Her planks are torn asunder. 
And down come her masts with a reeling shocks 
And a hideous crash like thunder. 
Her sails are draggled in the brine, 
That gladden'd late the skies; 
And her pendant, that kiss'd the fair moonshine, 
Down many a fathom lies. 
Her beauteous sides, whose rainbow hues 
Gleam'd softly from below, 
And flung a warm and sunny flusli 
O'er the weaths of murmuring snow, 
To the coral rocks are hurrying down. 
To sleep amid colours as bright as their own. 

Oh ! many a dream was in the ship, 
An hour before her death ; 
And sights of home with sighs disturbed 
The sleeper's long-drawn breath. . :^-.. 

Instead of the murmur of the sea, -^ 

The sailor heard the humming tree. 
Alive through ail its leaves, 
11 



130 MODULATION. 

35. The hum of the spreading sycamore 

That grows before his cottage-door, 

And the swallow's song in the eaves. 

His arms enclosed a blooming boy, 

Who listened with tears of sorrow and joy 
40. To the dangers his father had passed ; 

And his wife, — by turns she wept and smiled, ^ 

As she looked on the father of her child 

Returned to her heart at last. 

— He wakes at the vessel's sudden roll, 
45. And the rush of waters is in his soul. 

Astounded the reeling deck he paces. 

Mid hurrying forms and ghastly faces; — 

The whole ship's crew are there. 

Wailings around and over head, 
50. Brave spirits stupified or dead. 

And madness and despair. 

Now is the ocean's bosom bare. 

Unbroken as the floating air; 

The ship hath melted quite away, 
55. Like a struggling dream at break of day. 

No image meets my wandering eye 

But the new-risen sun and the sunny sky. 

Though the night-shades are gone, yet a vapour 
dull 

Bedims the waves so beautiful; 
60. While a low and melancholy moan 

Mourns for the glory that hath flown. 

The principal changes of tone in the reading or re- 
citing of this piece, are the following. — The com- 
mencing strain is that of admiration caused by sublim- 
ity and strength. The tone therefore is deep, and 
forcible, and somewhat slow. This tone pervades the 



EXERCISES. 131 

first three lines; — its peculiar qualities all increasing 
in degree till the close of the third. 

The first change takes place in passing to the style 
of calm and beautiful description, in the fourth and fifth 
lines; the tone becoming soft, and passing into the 
middle pitch and moderate rate. 

The tone of admiration is resumed in the sixth line, 
and is strengthened by the addition of that of exulta- 
tion, approaching to that of vaunting or boasting. The 
change of voice is to low but loud and rather rapid 
utterance, increasing gradually in the seventh and 
eighth lines. 

In the ninth line there is a sudden transition to the 
language of solemn rebuke. The voice passes to a 
very low pitch, slow utterance, and suppressed force. 
At the middle of the same line there is a perceptible 
change produced by the manner of solemn and em- 
phatic assertion; the tone becoming more energetic and 
'more slam, and falling still loiver. 

The commencing strain of the tenth line, is in the 
manner of solemn and emphatic description. The tone 
accordingly differs from that of the closing part of the 
preceding line only in rising in pitch; the force and 
sloivness of utterance remaining nearly as before. At 
the phrase, '* in one instant of dread," there is a sud- 
den change to rapidity, from the nature of the event 
introduced, and to loiv and forcible utterance from the 
same cause; the tone indicating the highest degree 
of vehement excitement arising from the abrupt intro- 
duction of circumstances of terror and agitation. This 
tone continues throughout the next line, but is greatly 
heightened in all its characteristic qualities, by the 
emotion of terror caused by the rapid consummation 
of the catastrophe described. 



132 MODtrLATiorr. 

The tone of the twelfth line is that of grief and re-- 
gre{. The voice, therefore, becomes slow, rises to a 
higher pitch than before, and is moderate in the force 
of utterance. The manner of emphatic description is 
added to this general tone in the next line; the pitch 
accordingly falls , and the force is much increasfed. 

The fourteenth line introduces particular and vivid'* 
description, which is gradually heightened in the next 
three lines. The tone of agitation returns to some ex- 
tent; and the voice deepens, and becomes moi^e and 
more rapid and forcible as it proceeds. 

In the eighteenth line, the pathetic manner begins 
to mingle with the description; and the rate of voice 
becomes slow, rises to a higher strain, and has its 
force very much subdued. The pathetic qualities of 
the tone increase in the next line, and still more in the 
twentieth. The deeper tone and still slower utterance, but 
greater force, oi regret, prevafl in the twenty -first line. 

The pathetic tone returns in the twenty-second line, 
and brings back the voice to a strain rather higher ia 
its notes, gentler iu its force, and more languid in its 
movement. The poetic beauty of style in the next 
three lines, gives occasion for a still more pathetic tone, 
as the description expands. 

The twenty-sixth line introduces a circumstance of 
aive in the description; and the voice sinks to a lower 
note, and the utterance acquires /orce. The poetic 
beauty of the description blending with the tone of awe 
in the next line, produces a slower and gentler strain 
of expression. 

The manner of deep grief pervades the twenty- 
eighth line; and the change of voice is to low and 
slow, yd forcible expression. The same general style 
characterises the next three lines. 



KXERCISES. 133 

In the thirty-second line, the language commences 
a strain of poetic and beautiful description^ associated 
with circumstances of pathos. Force is repressed in 
the tone; the voice rises to the middle pitch; and the 
rate of utterance is still slow. This style continues 
till the close of the thirty-seventh line. 

Joy, mingling ivith pathos^ is the succeeding class of 
emotions. The tone increases in farce, and takes a 
livelier and quicker utterance. In the thirty-ninth and 
fortieth lines, however, the tone o^ tenderness predom- 
inates; — diminishing the vivacity, and consequently 
reducing the force, but raising the note, and rendering 
the movement more slow. Through the next three 
lines, the same tones prevail, but marked still more 
strikingly by the characteristics of tenderness^ on the 
one hand, and joy on the other. 

The forty-fourth line commences with a sudden and 
abrupt change to the tone of terror, — producing the 
deepest notes and the most forcible and rapid utterance 
combined. The tone of horror succeeds in the next 
line, which is comparatively slow, but deep and ener- 
getic. The tone of amazement follows, which runs on 
higher notes, with a quicker rate, dind rather less forcible 
utterance. The high and hurned tone of agitation 
and confusion, pervades the forty-seventh line. The 
tone becomes somewhat slower in the next line, and 
falls a few notes, as the previous agitation is displaced 
for a moment by the tone of sublimity and awe, arising 
from the contemplation of the pending catastrophe, 
as connected with the number of victims. 

In the forty-ninth line, the tone changes to that of 

deep gt*ief in strong expression :— the utterance is on 

middle notes, but loud and slow. In the next line, the 

tone of amazement and confusion is introduced. The 

11=^ 



134 MODULATION* 

utterance assumes a quicker rate, a more abrupt force^ 
and a loiver note. The tone of utter horror succeeds, 
in the next line; and the voice falls to its lowest notes, 
but acquires the utmost force with a rate much slower. 

The language of the piece returns, in the fifty- 
second line, to the style of calm description, but blend- 
ed with the tone of awe, from the nature of the cir- 
circumstances that have preceded. The voice rises 
to the middle pitch nearly; the degree of force i& 
slight; and the rate of utterance is very slow. The 
same general tone pervades the three succeeding 
lines; becoming somewhat slower, lower, and more 
forcible, as the description advances to circumstances 
oi awe. 

The slow and distinct manner of solemnity, prevails 
in the fifty-sixth and fifty-seventh lines. 

The mood of gloom and melancholy commences in 
the fifty-eighth line, and runs through the fifty-ninth j^ 
but moderated by the tone of beautiful description. 
The voice sinks to a low and sloio strain, but sustained 
by a moderate force. 

In the sixtieth line the preceding tone becomes very 
deep, and peculiarly slow; the force diminishing as the 
emotions of gloom and melancholy are deepened by 
those of awe and grief; the poetic beauty of descrip- 
tion, however, still softening, to some extent, the 
whole character of the tone, and preventing any ap- 
proach to harshness or abruptness.^ 

To cultivate rightly the powers of expression in 
young learners, exercises in the above manner of ex- 

* The limits prescribed to an elementary book, render it impos- 
sible to extend the analysis to further examples. The specimen ^ 
however, which has been given, may perhaps be sufficient to sug- 
gest the kind of exercise intended. 



CADENCE. 135 

planatory analysis, should be practised, with the aid 
of the teacher, on every piece which is read as a 
lesson on tones. Nor will this prove a difficult task 
to pupils of the age supposed to have been attained by 
those who make use of this volume, if the exercise is 
never attempted on pieces not adapted to the taste 
and feelings of youth. Generally, however, it would 
be advisable that the teacher should allow his pupils 
the benefit of full illustration, by his performing this 
exercise frequently, in the way of example, before it 
is made a regular lesson for classes or individuals. 
The great object of such practice is to draw the atten- 
tion of learners to the various states of mind, or moods 
of feeling, which produce modulation and other 
changes of tone ; that these mental circumstances 
may, on any occasion, be readily and distinctly recog- 
nised; and that their appropriate tones may be insep- 
arably associated with them. Reading may thus be 
made a matter of understanding and true feeling, in- 
stead of being, as it now too generally is, a matter of 
mere mechanical routine; and elocution may become 
what it should be, — an intellectual accomplishment, 
and not an artificial acquirement. 



CHAPTER V. 

CADENCE. 

General Observations. The completion of a thought 
is expressed, not only by the long pause which takes 
place at the end of a sentence, but, usually, by a fall- 



136 CADENCR- 

ing of the voice on the closing words, to a lower pitch 
than that which prevailed in the body of the sentence. 
This closing descent in the tone, is termed cadence. 
Its use is to prevent the abruptness and irregularity 
of sound which would be produced by continuing the 
prevailing pitch to the close of the sentence, — a tone 
which would have the effect of exciting expectation o& 
farther expression, and would therefore be at vari- 
ance both with harmony and sense. 

The cadence, when appropriately used, produces to 
the ear the effect of the full formation or completion 
of sentiment. It is among the chief sources of har- 
mony and variety in speech, and forms a true and 
chaste ornament in reading. The absence of it, in 
circumstances where it is required, gives an indefinite 
and wandering tone to the termination of a sentence; 
while, on the other hand, a uniform and mechanical 
use of it, gives to reading that unmeaning, formal, 
and tedious style, which distinguishes its tones from? 
the natural, animated, and varied expression of the 
voice in conversation. 

Definition. Cadenee is the closing tone of a 
sentence. 

JVote, The etymology of this word has led to a 
false notion which is very current in regard to read- 
ing, — that every sentence has a falling close. Hence 
the common direction. Let the voice fall at a period. 
This rule would be a just one for the reading of a 
single sentence which required the downward slide. 
It is quite the reverse, however, for a sentence which 
happens to terminate with the rising inflection; as 
may be perceived by the following example: 



DEFINITION. I3t 

'* Lady you utter madness and not sorroiv.^^ Neither 
will such a rule apply when one sentence is merely 
introductory to another, or when a negative sentence 
IS followed by an affirmative one. For example : 
*^ Your enemies may be formidable by their numbers 
and their power. But He who is with you is mightier 
than they." ''True politeness is not a mere compli- 
ance with arbitrary custom. It is the expression of a 
refined benevolence.^' 

The word cadence, as used by the ancient rhet- 
oricians, was applied to the close of a ''period," or 
sentence embracing a complete sentiment, with all its 
modifications. But in modern style, a sentence is 
often completed in the compass of a few words; and 
the full stop is no security that a whole idea is ex- 
pressed. The frequency of the period, or full stop, 
is a matter of taste and custom, and dependent on no 
uniform rule of thought or of language. Thus, at the 
time when the Spectator appeared, it was customary 
to write a succession of single sentences connected 
by a conjunction, as component parts merely of a long 
compound sentence, and to point them with the semi- 
colon.^ In our own day, the tendency of custom is 

* «« The strange and absurd variety that is so apparent in men's 
actions shows plainly they can never proceed immediately from 
reason; so pure a fountain emits no such troubled waters; they 
must necessarily arise from the passions, which are to the mmd as 
the winds to a ship, they only can move it, and they too often 
destroy it; if fair and gentle, they guide it into the harbour; if 
contrary and furious, they overset it in the waves: in the same 
manner is the mind assisted or endangered by the passions; reason 
must then take the place of the pilot, and can never fail of se- 
curing her charge, if she be not wanting to herself; the strength of 
the passions will never be accepted as an excuse for complying 



138 CADENCE. 

to use, in such cases, the full stop at each single sen- 
tence. But, in all cases, we must seek for a rule less 
fluctuating than that of fashion or temporary taste, 
to guide the voice in the expression of sentiment; 
and this we can find only in the meaning. The appro- 
priate tone of thought and feeling, must be left to de- 
cide whether the voice shall fall or rise. 

Cadence, then, if we do use the word, should be 
understood, arbitrarily, to signify the closing tone of 
a sentence, as expressive of meaning preceding or 
following. 

The unmeaning and mechanical style of reading, 
which is too generally exemplified at school, and in 
professional performances, is chiefly characterised by 
a continually returning fail of voice at the end of 
every sentence, — so uniform that it might be used as 
a guide by which to count the exact number of sen- 
tences read. A whole paragraph is read as so many 
detached and independent sentences, forming distinct 
and unconnected propositions or maxims. Animated, 
natural, and appropriate reading, on the contrary, 
avoids this frequent fall, and keeps up that perpetual 
variety which the changes of sense require. This 
effect it produces by modifying the close of every 
sentence, according to its meaning in connexion with 
the rest. A reader who uses this style, gives ewery 
sentence as a dependent part of a connected whole, 
and thus gives unity and harmony to a train of thought. 
This effect he attains by disregarding the arbitrary 
rule for a fall of voice at every period, and seeking, 

with them; they were designed for subjection, and if a man suffers 
them to get the upper hand, he then betrays the liberty of his ow^a 
SQul." — SpectatoTyNo, 408. 



RULES, 139 

his guidance from the sense of what he utters, as he 
does in his habits of common conversation, — making 
no difference whatever in the two cases, but what 
arises, of necessity, from the more regular form of 
written sentences. 

Rule I. Every complete and independent sen- 
tence which does not terminate with a modifying 
clause has the falling inflection. 

JYbte. The note to which the cadence falls, and 
the space through which it descends, are dependent 
on the emotion with which the sentiment should be 
uttered, or on the length and complication of the sen- 
tence. In strong emotion, the cadence is often both 
abrupt and low: thus 

'*Let us do, or die." 

In gentle emotion, the cadence is gradual and 
moderate : 

'^How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!" 

In short sentences in which emotion does not pre- 
vail, the fall is slight. '* Human life is the journey 
of a day." In long sentences the fall is more ob- 
vious, and commences farther from the close. '* As 
we perceive the shadow to have moved along the dial, 
but did not perceive its moving; and it appears the 
grass has grown, though nobody ever saw it grow: 
so the advances we make in knowledge, as they con- 
sist of such minute steps, are only perceivable by the 
distance." 

Rule II. Sentences which terminate with a 



140 CADENCE. 

modifying phrase, and all sentences which qualify 
or affect, in any way, a preceding sentence, or are 
introductory to other sentences, close with a tone 
adapted to the modification or connexion of 



'* My sentence is for open war: of wiles 
(More unexpert) I boast not; them let those 
Contrive who need, or when they need: not now. 
For, while they sit contriving, shall the rest, 
Millions that stand in arms, and longing wait 
The signal to ascend, sit lingering here. 
Heaven's fugitives?"^ 

Errors. The common faults of cadence are 
1st. delaying the fall of voice till the last word of 
the sentence, and dropping at once from perhaps 
a uniform and level tone preceding ; 2d. falling 
very low in the closing phrase ; 3d. falling at too 
early a point in the sentence ; 4th. using a waving 
tone of voice, which makes a false emphasis near 
the close ; 5th. a gradual gliding downward 
from the opening of the sentence ; 6th. a gradual 
diminishing of the force of the voice, till it be- 
comes nearly inaudible at the close ; 7th. the dis- 
agreeable sameness produced by the repetition of 
any of these tones throughout a piece. 

The various faulty cadences which have been men- 
mentioned, including the last, might be expressed 
thus to the eye. 

* Farther examples may be found in the appropriate exercises 
on Inflection. 



ERRORS. 141 

1st. The dropping of the voice upon the last word: 
**The sums he has, by arbitrary taxes and unheard 
of impositions, extorted from the industrious poor, 
are not to be The most fatihful allies of 

computed, 
the commonwealth have been treated as 

enemies, 
Roman citizens have, like slaves, been put to death 
with 

tortures." 
This fault might be represented by a sort of dia- 
gram, thus: 



2d. A low fall on the closing phrase : 
'*The sums he has, by arbitrary taxes and unheard 
of impositions, extorted from the industrious poor, 
are not 

to 
be 

computed. 

The most faithful allies of the commonwealth have 
been treated 

as 

enemies. 
Roman citizens have been put to death 

like 

slaves." 
This fault might be represented thus: 



\ ~\ Ss 

3d. Falling at too early a point in the sentence : 
**The sums he has, by arbitrary taxes and un- 
10 



142 CADEMCE. 

heard of impositions, extorted from the industrious 
poor, 

are not to be computed. The most faithful 
allies of the commonwealth 

have been treated as enemies/' 
Roman citizens have been put to death 

like slaves. ""^ 
This cadence is not quite so uniform as either of 
the preceding, and cannot be so strictly copied to tho^ 
eye — comparatively , however, it would run thus: 

4th. False emphasis and undulation at the close of a 
sentence : 

•' The sums he has, by arbitrary taxes and unheard 
of impositions, extorted from the industrious poor, are 
not to be computed. The most faithful allies of the 
commonwealth have been treated as enemies. Roman 
citizens have been put to death like slaves." 

This fault might be represented thus: 



5th. & 6th. Diminishing and gradually descending 
cadence. 

The most faithful allies of the commonwealth 

have 

been 

treated 

as 

enemies. 



* This cadence is always accompanied by the inflecti©o o^ 
«^ ennphatic phrase." 



ERRORS, 143 

Roman citizens 

have been 

put 
to 

death 

like 

slaves. 

This fault may be repi^esent^d thus: 



The first of these faults arises from a habit of read- 
ing with a mechanical attention to the words, instead 
of an intel]io;ent observation of meaninoi:. It is the 
appropriate tone of children, while the difficulty of 
reading still remains, to some extent, or when they 
are reading what they do not understand. The habit 
of attending solely or chiefly to the words of a sen- 
tence, soon becomes fixed as a permanent one, and 
entails unmeaning and arbitrary tones on the reading 
even of adults. It is hardly necessary to say that this 
tone is at variance w4th all meaning, and that it can 
be removed only by a close attention to the sense of 
what is read. 

The second fault in cadence is contracted usually 
hy reading grave and formal pieces; the solemnity of 
style in which is unnatural to the tones of youth. 
The usual standard inadvertently adopted by boys in 
the reading of such pieces, is that which they too 
often hear from the pulpit. The effect of this tone is 
to substitute a heavy and hollow-sounding close, bear- 
ing a measured proportion to the preceding parts of a 
sentence, for the true and varied tone of meaning. 
This cadence is especially inappropriate in the young, 
and should be carefully avoided by directing the at- 



144 CADENCE. 

tention to the nature of the sentiment which is ex- 
pressed, and adapting the voice to the meaning, and 
not to a certain routine of mechanical utterance. 

The third fault, that of beginning to fall too soon, 
also arises from the mind being in the habit of attend- 
ing to the language rather than to the thought, and 
from the wrong impression that there must necessa- 
rily be a fall at the close of every sentence, and, per- 
haps, too, from a mistake in taste, by which the young 
reader is led to imagine that there is something - 
pleasing to the ear in a regular and formal descent of 
the voice. This tone is unavoidably associated with 
a pedantic manner, and should be carefully guarded 
against, by endeavouring to keep the voice in the same 
strain of expression which would be observed in con- 
versation, when not marked by incorrect or inappro* 
priate tones. The meaning of a sentence, and noth- 
ing else, can suggest the true tone. 

The fourth error in cadence is the tone often heard 
at the close of sentences, in the speaking of declama- 
tory pieces at school and college exhibitions. It falls 
upon the ear with a sound resembling the close of an 
hexameter verse. Like the faults already mentioned, 
it is characterised by a mechanical and measured 
flow of voice, depending on the succession of the 
words, and not on the meaning of the sentence. The 
speaker is inadvertently carried away by the rhetori- 
cal force and rhythm of the language, and thus loses 
a clear and distinct conception of the sentiment. The 
tone of energy, instead of falling only on emphatic 
words, is distributed vaguely over the whole surface 
of a sentence, and floats oflTin an undulating and half- 
musical close. This fault would be avoided by direct- 
ing the attention to the thoughts rather than to the 



ERRORS. 145 

language of a piece, and by observing the true em- 
phasis of meaning, instead of an arbitrary emphasis of 
sound. 

The fifth and sixth faults usually occur in the same 
general tone; the voice commencing every sentence 
on a comparatively high note, and with a moderate 
degree of force, but the pitch gradually falling, and 
the loudness gradually diminishing, in the progress of 
the sentence, till the tone has nearly died away at the 
close. These faults originate in the habits contracted 
in childhood, from the unnatural attempt to read too 
loud, or in too large a room, and thus to make an 
effort which the powers of the voice, are, iit that 
early age, incapable of sustaining. The young read- 
er soon gets accustomed to this subsiding tone, as a 
matter of course in all reading, until it becomes as it 
were the fixed gait of his voice, which he involun- 
tarily transfers to later stages of his progress in edu- 
cation, and even to professional efforts in mature 
years. 

This objectionable tone would, like all others, be 
removed by the habit of attending to the meaning of 
what is read or spoken, more than to the phraseology. 
Written sentences differ from those of conversation 
chiefly in their inversion; the most forcible and ex- 
pressive phrases being generally placed last in order. 
This arrangement favours strength of style in compo- 
sition; but it needs a sustained and regularly increas- 
ing force of voice, to give it just utterance. In good 
reading, accordingly, the tone strengthens progres- 
sively in a sentence, — especially if long or complex; 
whilst in feeble and unimpressive reading, the voice 
is gradually dwindling where the language requires 
increasing energy. 

12* 



146 CADENCE, 

The sinking cadence owes its peculiar tone, in 
part, to the habit of resuming a high pitch at the 
commencing word of every sentence. This tone pre- 
vents the expression of connected meaning; as it 
makes every sentence a separate object to the ear, 
and produces something like a sense of weariness in 
the hearer, by the continual recurrence of its dying ^ 
note. 

This fault arises in part, also, from the mechan- 
ical habit of attending to sentences as such, and not 
to their value, or their connexion in signification. 
When two sentences are connected in meaning, the 
latter, if appropriately read, commences on the low 
note used in the closing of the former. The unity of 
sound thus produced, gives the sentences a unity to 
the ear. The rising of the voice to a new pitch, at 
the opening of a new sentence, indicates, by the 
change of note, a change of meaning, or a transition 
to a new and different thought. 

Take, for example, the following sentences; and 
let them be read first in such a manner that the 
clause, ''It fills the mind with the largest variety of 
ideas," shall run upon the same note precisely with 
which the word *' senses" in the preceding sentence 
was uttered; — using that word for a key note, as you 
would the sound of a pitch-pipe. In this reading, the 
tone of <5onnexion between the sentences is produced. 
Again, let the sentences be read with a new or high 
pitch upon the opening of the second; and the voice 
obviously wanders off*, as if to express a distinct and 
unconnected idea. 

**Our sight is the most perfect and most delightful 
of all our senses. It fills the mind with the largest 
variety of ideas, converses with its objects at the 



SUGGESTIONS, 147 

greatest distance, and continues the longest in action 
without being tired or satiated with its proper enjoy- 
ments." 

The uniform recurrence, then, of a high pitch at 
the beginning of every sentence, must have the effect 
of destroying the natural connexion of thought, and 
thus of obscuring or changing the sense. It is still a 
cl^ar conception of meaning, however, on which the 
learner is to depend as the only guide to appropriate 
cadence. For the fault of a dwindling cadence would 
not occur, but for the mechanical change of pitch, 
which is at variance with meaning. 

The fault which is mentioned last in the enumera- 
tion of errors, is the necessary result of the frequent 
repetition or constant recurrence of any one of the 
preceding faults. It implies, then, all the disadvan- 
tages of each singly, aggravated by perpetual reitera- 
tion, and thus leading to a sameness of sound, which 
is not less disagreeable to the ear than the particular 
^one considered singly. 

This, and all the other faulty habits of cadence, 
are greatly aggravated in verse. See Chapter VI. 
Reading of Poetry. 

SUGGESTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 

The personal tone of each pupil must regulate the 
adoption of expedients for the removal of habitual 
faults in regard to cadence. The chief thing to be 
impressed on the mind, is the deviation of the voice 
from the tone of the meaning; since all pupils do 
not possess a ready ear for the discrimination of 
sounds considered in relation to music, or even to 
general good taste. Imitation may sometimes be re- 



148 



CADENCE* 



sorted to, on the part of the teacher, with good effect; 
and, under due superintendence, mutual correction 
by the pupils themselves, may be very serviceable in 
correcting bad cadence. 

The correction of the fault mentioned first, re- 
quires a complete renovation of mental habit, and a 
wakeful active attention to what is read. Animated^ 
and interesting pieces, in familiar style, will afford 
the best subjects for practice, with a view to the re- 
moval of this fault. The same suggestion may be 
made in reference to the errors numbered second, 
third, and fourth. Lively and humorous pieces will 
be most useful, when the object of practice is to do 
away the diminishing and half-pathetic cadence. 

The expedient of practising in company with the 
teacher, cannot be so freely recommended here as in 
other departments of elocution; since adults, and 
especially teachers,^ are generally prone to a degree 
of formality in cadence, which, when transferred to 
the style of the young, has a very unfavourable effect. 
The utmost care, too, is necessary in selecting pieces 
for practice; that when didactic and declamatory ex- 
ercises are prescribed, they may not prove, as they 
too generally do, a source of irretrievable injury to 
tone and cadence, from the nature of the sentiments^ 
and the forms of expression, prevailing in the passage 
which is read or spoken. Unintelligible ideas and 
formal language are the chief sources of false and un- 
meaning cadence, as well as of most other defects in 
reading and declamation. 



READING OF POETRY. 149 



CHAPTER VI 



READING OF POETRY< 



General Observations. The reading of poetry difTers 
from that of prose, chiefly in the following circurn- 
stances. Poetry, being the expression of imaginative 
states of mind, produces a much greater force, vari- 
ety, and vividness of thought and feeling, than usually 
occur in prose, which is the language of sentiment ia 
its ordinary form. The qualities of voice required by 
the former, correspond to its peculiar traits of emo- 
tion, which are distinguished by great intensity; run- 
ning sometimes to the extremes of tone, and often 
varying from one strain to another. Prose generally 
preserves a more moderate expression, and a more 
equable movement of voice, as coinciding with the 
plainer qualities of thought and language. The 
rhythmical flow of voice, produced by versification, 
combining, with the sense of poetic beauty of concep- 
tion, naturally creates a musical or melodious strain 
of utterance, in the reading of poetry, which must be 
avoided in prose, as inconsistent withr the practical 
style of sentiment and expression, and the irregular 
succession of sounds, which appropriately belong to 
this form of writing. 

The chief requisites, then, for the appropriate read- 
ing of poetry, are a clear and distinct conception of 
the thoughts expressed in the passage which is read, 
a full and natural sympathy with the emotions which 
combine with these thoughts, and a discriminating 
ear for the melody and harmony of verse. The 



150 READING OF POETllY. 

states of mind which produce vividness and variety of 
tone, have been already adverted to; and some of the 
most striking instances of their occurrence have been 
pointed out, in the examples and explanations of the 
lesson on tones. It is to the effect of the rhythm of 
verse, therefore, that the present lesson is intended 
to direct the learner's attention. ^ 

Definitions. The chief aftections or modifica- 
tions of voice, arising from the utterance of verse, 
may be arranged in the manner observed in the 
lesson on tones, and classed under the heads of 
force, pitchy and rate. To these qualities we must 
add that of melre, or the particular character of the 
rhythm, and to which rate is, in fact, but subordi- 
nate : and which, though it exists in the reading or 
speaking of prose, is not so distinctly perceptible 
in this form of utterance as in that of verse. This 
quality of vocal expression is that which keeps in 
jost proportion the length of every sound, the rate 
of the succession of sounds, and the duration of 
pauses, W'hether arising from meaning or merely 
from versification. 

The effect of time on a passage which expresses an 
emotion requiring a sloiv utterance, w^ould be, (as in 
tlie following example of solemnity and reverence,) to 
prolong every single sound, to render the succession of 
sounds slow, to make the pauses long which arise from 
the senlimefit, and those which belong to the verse, 
perceptible and distinct; 

*^ These are thy glorious works, Parent of good. 
Almighty! thine this universal frame^ 



DEFINITIONS, 151 

Thus wondrous fair! thyself how wondrous then; 
Unspeakable! who sitt'st above these heavens, 
To us invisible, or dimly seen 
In these thy lowest works;" — 

*ji gay and lively strain of poetry, if correctly timed, 
would be distinguished, (as for example the following 
lines from Milton's L' Allegro,) by brevity in single 
sotmds, quick succession of sounds, and short pauses, 
hoih as regards the meaning and the verse. 

'* [Admit me, Mirth,] to live with thee. 
In unreproved pleasures free: 
To hear the lark begin iiis flight, 
And singiuiij startle the dull ni^ht. 
From his watch-tower in the skies. 
Till the dappled dawn doth rise; 
Then to come, in spite of sorrovv', 
And, at my windovv, bid good morrov/, 
Through the sweet briar or the vine^ 
Or the twisted eglantine:" — 

The proportion of sound, of its succession, and of 
its intervals, (or, in other words, the effect of time,) 
is, in both these instances, — and not less in all other 
cases, — a main circumstance in the true poetic char- 
acter of the utterance, and a point without which the 
language must deviate into the manner of prose. 
Time, indeed, is as essential to poetry as to music. 

The modifications of tone arising from the influ- 
ence of poetry, are chiefly the following: 

1st, Rate. Poetry being, as far as the ear is 
concerned, a rhythmical succession of sounds, it 
becomes necessary, in point of fact, as well as 



152 REA^DING OF POETRY. 

agreeable to the ear, that every sound should be 
dwelt upon long enough to give a full impression 
of its true quantity or length. The reading of 
poetry, therefore, is distinguished from that of 
prose, by a comparative prolongation or indul- 
gence of every sound. 

-4 

The tones of prose reading, not being affected by 
any accommodation to melody or harmony of sound, 
but solely by the plain and direct conveyance of 
meaning, the voice inclines to brevity. Poetry im- 
plies, in all its expression, a reference to pleasure; 
and the ear is to be gratified by sound, while the 
mind is receiving ideas. A sHghtly prolonged articu- 
lation, therefore, becomes necessary in the reading of 
verse, to afford due scope to the beauty of sound: it 
constitutes the natural expression, also, of the grati- 
fication derived, through the ear, from the pleasing 
form in which objects are offered to the attention; 
since the sense tends to dwell on what gives delight 
to the mind. Rapidity and brevity in utterance, ac- 
cordingly, destroy the effect of poetry to the ear. 

The length of single soui>ds occasions of ne- 
cessity, a slow succession of them. The general 
style of utterance in poetic reading, therefore, is 
slower than that of prose. 

The preceding explanations may be applied to the 
following stanza.* 

* The prolongation of sound mentioned above is a quality which 
has been described as comparative merely. It must be confined 
to a very moderate degree. 



DEFINITIONS. 153 

^* All hail! thou lovely queen of night, 

"Bright empress of the starry sky! 
The meekness of thy silvery light 

Beams gladness on the gazer's eye, 
While from thy peerless throne on high 

Thou shinest bright as cloudless noon. 
And bidd'st the clouds of darkness fly 

Before thy glory — Harvest moon/' 

2d. Force. The general effect of verse on the 
force of the voice, is to diminish it slightly, af 
compared with the same quality of utterance in 
prose. This result is produced chiefly by soften- 
ing the abruptness of force, — partly through the 
prolongation of sound already mentioned, and 
partly through a slight yet perceptible swelling of 
every sound, especially long vowels, — somewhat in 
the manner of singing, though only a distant ap- 
proach to it. 

The rhythm of verse identifies it so far with music: 
the ** swell" is inseparable from musical utterance, 
and the reading of poetry consequently partakes of it. 
The slight swell of voice m verse differs, however, 
from that of music, in not being so regular in its 
formation. The swell of music is a gradual increase 
of force, from the beginning to the middle of a note,— 
from which point it diminishes as regularly and grad- 
ually as it increased in approaching it. An exact 
copy of this style of utterance, even in a rapid de- 
livery, — in which it would be comparatively obscured 
"by the quick succession of sounds, — cannot be trans- 
ferred, even to prose, withoiit creating the fault of a 
13 



154 READING OF POETRY. 

mouthing tone. The swell of verse differs from that 
of music, not only in being very slight, or barely per- 
ceptible, but in attaining its utmost force at a point 
comparatively near to its commencement, and thence 
decreasing, in a manner which leaves the diminish- 
ing of the force much more apparent to the ear, than 
the increasing of it when approaching to its utmost* 
degree. 

This slight swell of voice is a natural and indispen- 
sable characteristic of poetic tone, without which the 
utterance becomes hard and prosaic. A slow and 
careful reading of the first line, and especially of the 
first two words, of the stanzas already quoted, will 
exemplify this modification of voice. 

3d. Pitch. The eflfect of poetry on the pitch 
of the voice, is usually, in consequence of the more 
vivid emotion by w^hich it is characterised, to carry 
the voice to a higher or lower note than in prose, 
according to the nature of the emotion expressed, 
as grave and deep-toned, or inclining to a high 
strain of utterance. 

Time. 

The general office of time, in regulating the 
movement of the voice, has been already men- 
tioned. Its peculiar eflfect on the reading of verse 
depends much on two pauses, one essential to all 
forms of metre, and the other chiefly to those 
which run to comparative length in single lines, as 
heroic and blank verse, and, sometimes, anapaestic 



PROSODIAL PAUSE. 155 

measure. These pauses are termed final and 
ccesuraL The former takes place at the end of 
every hne where it would not destroy the natural 
connexion of sense ; and the latter, at or near the 
middle of a line. 

The final pauses in the following stanza, coincide, 
at the close of the first two lines, with the sense and 
the punctuation. But at the close of the third, the 
final pause must be omitted as inappropriate and un- 
meaning. 

'' On Linden, when the sun was low, 
All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, 
And dark as winter was the flow 
Of Iser rolling rapidly." 

JVbfe. The final pause very often coincides with 
the rhetorical pause, which was mentioned and exem- 
plified in the lesson on pauses. If this coincidence 
does not exist, and no grammatical stop occurs, no 
pause should he observed in the reading. 

The ccesural pause, in heroic and blank verse, oc- 
curs commonly at the end of the fourth syllable, but 
changes its place occasionally, to produce a more 
agreeable and varied harmony. 

^*Not half so swift^ | the trembling doves can fly, 
When the fierce eagle | cleaves the liquid sky; 
Not half so swiftly [ the fierce eagle moves, 
When through the clouds | he drives the trembling 
doves." 

* This mark denotes the caasural pause. 



156 READING OF POETRY. 

*'^Now came still evening on, j and twilight gr^y 
Had* I in her sober livery j all things clad; 
Silence accompanied; | for beast and bird, 
Theyl | to their grassy couch, [ these| | to their 

nests 
Were slunk, | all but the wakeful nightingale: 
She all night long | her amorous descant sung; 
Silence was pleased: | now glowed the firmament 
With living sapphires; | Hesperus that led 
^The starry host, | rode brightest, | till the moon,^ 
Rising in clouded majesty, j at length 
Apparent queen | unveil'd her peerless light, 
And o'er the dark | her silver mantle threw." 

The csesural pause in anapcBstic verse falls appro- 
priately near the middle of the line. But harmony 
and variety require not unfrequently a deviation from 
this rule. 

*' 'Tis night, I and the landscape is lovely no morer 

I mourn; | but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for 

you; 

For morn is approaching, | your charms to restore^ 

Perfum'd with fresh fragrance | and glittering 

with dew.'' 

''My banks | they are furnish 'd with bees. 
Whose murmur | invites me to sleep; 

My grottoes | are shaded with trees. 

And my hills [ are white over with sheep. '^ 

* Some verses are divided by a double csesural pause of shorter 
duration than that of the common caesura. 

t This pause is sometimes termed demi-ccRsuraly as it has but 
half the length of that which occurs at the caBsura, 



RHYTHM. 157 

JVbte 1. The ccBSural pause is to be observed only 
when it coincides with the rhetorical pause; and the 
latter may sometimes produce a double pause or demi- 
ccesura; thus, 

*' The look | that spoke gladness and welcome | was 
gone, 
The blaze | that shone bright in the hall ] was 
no more; 
A stranger was there, | with a bosom of stone: 
And cold was his look, | as I enter'd the door." 

2d. This pause is comparatively slight, and is 
sometimes entirely omitted in the shorter forms of 
verse. 

^'Remote from cities | liv'd a swain 
Unvex'd with all the cares of gain; 
His head | was silver 'd o'er with age, 
And long experience | made him sage." 

'^Or, if it be thy will and pleasure, 
Direct my plough | to find a treasure!" 

Rhythm. 

Rhythm is the measured flow of voice arising 
from the arrangement of successive sounds, in 
numbers or groups corresponding to or contrasted 
with each other in length or shortness, force or 
weakness, and denominated metrical feet. 

These correspondences and contrasts in sound pro- 
duce to the ear a degree of that effect which belongs, 
in its full expression, to a strain of music. The value 
of rhythm may be made to appear in a very striking 
13* 



158 READING OF POETRY. 

light, by reading a passage of poetry, without regard 
to its rhythm, and in the manner of prose. We may 
take for example the opening of Paradise Lost, and 
arrange it to the eye as prose, in the following man- 
ner. ''Of man's first disobedience; and the fruit of 
that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste brought death 
into the world, and all our wo, with loss of Eden,^ 
till one greater man restore us, and regain the bliss- 
ful seat, sing, heavenly muse." This passage, if 
read with a due attention to rhythm, will produce a 
very different effect to the ear, and become at once 
invested with a sonorous harmony of utterance. 

''Of man's first disobedience; and the fruit 
Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste 
Brought death into the world, and all our wo, 
With loss of Eden, till one greater man 
Restore us, and regain the blissful seat, 
Sing, heavenly muse!" 

The groups or portions of sound into which rhythm 
divides itself, are, in the language of prosody, called 
feet: of these, the following are the principal that oc- 
cur in English verse; the iambus, consisting of two 
syllables; the first either short or unaccented or both, 
and the second either long or accented or both, as 
*' adore," "/org-of:"* — the trochee, which is exactly 
the iambus inverted, as '^ fatal, ^^ " error :^^ — the 
pyrrhic, which consists of two short syllables, as the 
first two words in the phrase "m a recess:" — the 
spondee, which consists of two long syllables, as ^' loiv- 

* These marks are used to distinguish long and short syllables, 
and they are transferred arbitrarily to those which are unaccented 
®r accented^ 



METRE. 159 

broiv^d:^^ — the anapcest, consisting of three syllables; 
the first two short, and the third long, as ^^ com- 
plaisant.^^ 

The prevalence of any one of these feet, gives rise 
to the classification of verse as iambic, trochaic, or 
anapcestic; each requiring an appropriate but chaste 
rhythm in the utterance. The pyrrhic and spondee 
occur only as occasional feet, thrown in for variety in 
particular verses; thus, 

'* She all night long her amorous descant sung;" — - 

'' 'Twas from philosophy man learn'd to tame 
The soil."— 

JVofe. The trochee and the anapsest, though they 
usually form distinct species of verse, are occasion- 
ally introduced, like the pyrrhic and the spondee, for 
variety of rhythm; thus, 

'' Lo! from the echoing axe and thundering flame 
Poison and plague, and yelling rage are fled." 

Iambic verse has the following among other subdi- 
visions: heroic — or the rhyming couplet, (two lines,) 
of five iambic feet, or ten syllables in each line. 
This kind of verse occurs in heroic poems, — (the nar- 
rative of heroic actions or enterprises;) but it is also 
used in lofty or grave subjects, generally. A stanza 
is sometimes formed of four heroic couplets, or eight 
lines rhyming in successive or alternate pairs, and an 
Alexandrine verse,— a line of six iambic feet, or 
twelve syllables. See examples of this stanza in the 
*^ Suggestions" for practice on this lesson, — under 
the heads of '^ moderate " and '' lively " utterance. 

Blank verse differs from heroic metre in consisting 
of single lines, and being entirely destitute of rhyme — 



160 READING OF POETRY* 

hence its epithet of ^'blank,^^ This species of verse 
is restricted to the highest order of subjects. Ex- 
amples of heroic and blank verse, were given in the 
application of the csesural pause. 

Verses, or lines, are arranged in stanzas, or succes- 
sive portions, according to rAj/me, — the correspond- 
ence of the sound of syllables to each other; and 
hence the further subdivision of iambic verse as 
classed in couplets or distichs. Thus, are formed 
heroic verse, and the couplet of four iambuses, or 
eight syllables in each line, (called therefore octo-^ 
syllabic,) of which the following is an example: 

'^The way was long, the wind was cold, 
The minstrel was infirm and old; 
His wither'd cheek and tresses gray 
Seem'd to have known a better day. 
The harp, his sole remaining joy, 
Was carried by an orphan boy." 

A very common form of iambic verse, is the qua-^ 
train or stanza of four lines, in which the rhyme occurs 
on alternate lines, according to their correspondence 
in the number of their syllables; the first and third 
lines containing eight syllables, or four iambic ke^i*, 
and the second and fourth, six syllables, or three 
feet; as in the following example: 

**The boy stood on the burning deck 

Whence all but him had fled; 
The flame that lit the battle's wreck. 

Shone round him, o'er the dead; 

** Yet beautiful and bright he stood, 

As born to rule the storm, 
A creature of heroic blood, 

A proud though childlike form.'' 



METRE. 161 

A less common form of the iambic stanza is that in 
which no verse contains more than three iambic feet or 
their equivalents. This species of stanza belongs to 
pieces of great force and animation. 

'^ It was the wild midnight: 

A storm was on the sky; 
The lightning gave its light, 

And the thunder echoed by. — 

*'The torrent swept the glen, 

The ocean lash'd the shore; 
Then rose the Spartan men 

To make their bed in gore." 

Trochaic verse occurs more rarely in separate 
compositions, being usually interspersed with iambic 
measure, for variety of rhythm. It is exemplified in 
Milton's L' Allegro. 

'^ Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures, 
While the landscape round it measures; 
Russet lawns and fallows gray, 
Where the nibbling flocks do stray. 
Meadows trim with daisies pied. 
Shallow brooks and rivers wide.""^ 

Anap(Rstic measure is found chiefly in the following 
forms: — the longer, containing /owr feet; and the 
shorter, containing three. 

Of the former, the following stanzas are ex- 
amples: 

* Some writers prefer to class this and similar measures tinder 
the general head of iambic verse, deficient in one syllable at the 
beginning of each line. The trochaic scanning, however, is better 
adapted to reading or recitation. 



162 READING OF POETRY. 

*^* The evening was glorious; and light through the 

trees, 
Play the sunshine and rain-drops, the birds and the 

breeze; 
*The landscape outstretching in loveliness lay 
On the lap of the year, in the beauty of May. 

*' For the Queen of the Spring, as she pass'd down 

the vale. 
Left her robe on the trees, and her breath on the 

gale; 
And the smile of her promise gave joy to the hours, 
And flush in her footsteps sprang herbage and 

flowers. '' 

The shorter anapaestic stanza is exemplified in the 
following extract. 

=^'' Ye winds that have made me your sport, 

^Convey to this desolate shore 
Some cordial endearing report 

Of a land I shall visit no more! 
My friends, do they now and then send 

A wish or a thought after me ? 
Oh! tell me I yet have a friend. 

Though a friend I am never to see. 

''How fleet is a glance of the mind! 

Compar'd with the speed of its flight, 
The tempest itself lags behind. 

And the swift-wing'd arrows of light. 
When I think of my own native land, 

In a moment I seem to be there; 
But alas! recollection at hand 

Soon hurries me back to despair.*' 

* The first foot of such verses is sometimes an iambus. 



METRE. 163 

The influence of the various kinds of verse on the 
voice, may be considered as affecting generally the 
rate, or movement, and the time, of utteiance. Thus, 
blank verse is remarkably sloiv and stately in the char- 
acter of its tone; and the timing of the pauses re- 
quires attention chiefly to length. Heroic verse is 
commonly in the same prevailing strain, but not to 
such an extent as the preceding. The octosyllabic 
metre is generally more quick and lively in its move- 
ment, and the pauses are comparatively brief. But 
under the influence of sloiv time it gives intensity to 
grief, and tenderness to the pathetic tone. The qua- 
train or four-line stanza in the common form, (called 
sometimes common metre,) has a comparatively mu- 
sical arrangement of the lines and a peculiar charac- 
ter in its cadence, — which admits of its expressing 
the extremes of emotion whether grave or gay. It pre- 
vails, accordingly, in hymns and in ballads alike, — 
whether the latter are pathetic or humorous. It de- 
rives the former character from the observance of 
quick time, and the latter from slow time. 

Trochaic verse has a peculiar energy from the 
abruptness of its character; — the foot commencing 
either with a long or an accented syllable. In gay 
pieces, and with quick time in utterance, it produces a 
dancing strain of voice, peculiarly adapted to the ex- 
pression of joy; while in grave and vehement strains, 
with slow time it produces the utmost ybrce and severity 
of tone. These two extremes are strikingly exem- 
plified in Milton's L' Allegro and II Penseroso. 

Anapcestic metre has a peculiar /i(7/ness and sweetness 
of melody. Slow iim^ accordingly renders it deeply 
pathetic, and quick time renders it the most graceful 
expression of joy. This, as well as iambic and 



164 tlEADINiS O^ POETRY. 

trochaic verse, becomes well fitted to express the 
mood of calmness and tranquillity when the time is 
rendered moderate,^ 

Errors. The chief faults which usually occur 
in the reading of poetry, are the following : 

1st. Too rapid utte7^ance, by which the effjct^ 
of verse is lost to the ear ; the space of time allow- 
ed for the foraiation of each sound not being suffi- 
cient to admit of its completion, and the succession 
of all so rapid that they tend to obliterate each 
other, or at least fail of acquiring a just proportion. 
The general hurry of voice abridges the pauses, 
and sacrifices every characteristic beauty of the 
metre. 

2d, A plain and dry articulation, which, 
though sufficiently distinct for meaning, withholds 
the appropriate tone of poetry, and turns every 
line into prose, by neglecting to accommodate the 
voice to emotion and to rhythm. 

3d. There is also the opposite fault of a mouth- 
ing and chaunting tone, producing the effi^ct of 
bombast, and of mock solemnity. This error con- 
sists in carrying prolongation and swell to excess, 
and causes the style of reading or reciting to fall 
consequently into the manner of extravagance and 
caricature, rather than that of strong emotion. 

4th. A want of true time, appearing in the 
disproportion of syllables to each other and to their 

* Most of these explanations may be applied by repeating the 
examples quoted in the preceding part of this lesson. 



ERRORS. 165 

place as component parts of metrical feet, — in the 
irregular and varying succession of the different 
parts of a line as compared with each other, — in 
the want of correspondence and symmetry in the 
pauses, whether as compared with each other or 
with the average rate of utterance. 

Some readers err in all these particulars, and others 
in several, but most in at least one. The effect of 
any of these faults is to destroy, as far as it extends, 
the harmonious flow of verse, and to impab the per- 
ception of that harmony in thought, of which poetry is 
the expression. 

5th. A very prevalent source of faults in the 
reading of poetry, consists in the mechanical ob- 
servance of the final and ccBsural pauses^ without 
regard to meaning. 

The error in regard to the final pause, would be 
exemplified thus, in the following instances: 

'' Of man's first disobedience; and the fruit 
Of that forbidden tree," &,c. 
Which is read thus, *'Of man's first disobedience 
and the fruit — of that forbidden tree," &c. 

'* Now came still evening on, and twilight gray 
Had in her sober livery all things clad." 

Read thus, *' Now came still evening on and twi- 
light gray — had in her sober livery," &c. 
' ' And dark as winter was the flow 
Of Iser rolling rapidly." 
Read, '^ And dark as winter was the flow — of Iser 
rolling rapidly." 

14 



166 READING OF POETRY. 

The error o? ccesural pause would occur thus: 

^'The look that spoke gladness and welcome was 
gone," 

Read thus, '^The look that spoke gladness — and 
welcome was gone." 

**The blaze that shone bright in the hall was no 
more." 

*^ Read thus, '* The blaze that shone bright — in the 
hall was no more." 

^'The boy stood on the burning deck." 
Read, ^' The boy stood on — the burning deck." 

The ridiculous effects of this error it is unnecessary 
to describe at length. 

6th. Reading literally and uniformly accord- 
ing to the rhythm or the particular metre of a pas- 
sage or of a stanza, without regard to emphasis. 

This error may be considered as arising either from 
the want of a clear conception of the sense of what is 
read, or from the overlooking of particular instances 
in which the poetic license of substituting one foot for 
another is indulged, as happens in the following linCj. 
in which the spondee is twice substituted for the 
iambus. The faulty reading is thus: 

*'N6w came still evening on," &c., for 
'^ Now came still evening on," &c. 
*'The boy stood on the burning deck," for 
'^ The boy stood on the burning deck;" 

The trochee being substituted for the iambus, as 
the second foot. 



ERRORS. 161 

** And dark as winter was the flow 
Of Iser rolling rapidly/' for 

^* And dark as winter was the flow 
Of Iser rolling rapidly;" 

The pyrrhic being substituted for the iambus, as 
the third foot. 

This fault is sometimes carried so far as to change 
the accent of words; thus, 

''Yet beautifiir and bright he stood/' for 
''Yet beautiful and bright he stood." 
With the pyrrhic instead of the iambus, as the 
second foot. 

Sometimes an improper elision of a syllable or letter 
takes place in the same w^ay: 

^^ No more thus brooding o'er yon heap 
With av'rice painful vigils keep/^ for 
''With avarice painful vigils keep.^' 

The principle on ^vhich the anapsest is to be pre- 
served in the second foot, is this. The verse admits, 
for variety, the occurrence of a spondee in the same 
situation; and as the latter contains two long syl- 
lables, or four short quantities, the former is nothing 
more than its strict equivalent in numbers; since it 
contains exactly the same amount of prosodial quantity. 

To the same class of errors belong the following pro- 
nunciations, "dang'rous" for dangerous, " sev'ral " 
for several, '^ev'ry" for every, " i' th' open sky" 
for in the open sky. No attention should be paid to 
such apostrophes: they belong to a style which is be- 
come obsolete. 

JVote. Poetry occasionally employs a more ancient 
style of language, than would be appropriate in prose. 



168 READING OF POETRY. 

This distinction extends not only to the use of words 
obsolete in prose, but also to forms of accent which 
are no longer authorized by good usage. Hence we 
find in verse such accents as the following, contribute, 
con'template, obdu'rate, &c. requiring a change from 
present custom in pronunciation. The rule of taste 
isj in these and similar instances, to follow the verse f 
as we should do in pronouncing ''wind" to rhyme 
with ''find," and " wound " to rhyme with "ground," 
but not in other circumstances. In neither case, 
however, ought this principle of accommodation to be 
carried to extremes, as it would be if obeyed in the 
following or similar cases r 

"Who now triumphs, and in the excess of joy." — 
"Of thrones and mighty seraphim prostrate,^' — 
"Last of my race — on battle plain 
That shout shall ne'er be heard againV^ 
" His neighbours tell, and tell you truly. 
In June, December, and in July 
'Tis all the same to Harry Gill." 

7th. A fault w^hich is peculiar to the reading of 
the stanza in common metre, and w^hich is famil- 
iarly called ^^ sing song/' arises from the use of a 
wrong inflection at the end of the second line. 

The sense is usually left incomplete, or there is a 
continuance or connexion of thought, which requires 
the rising slide, at the close of this line; and when 
these reasons for this inflection do not exist, the prin- 
ciple of the prevalence of the rising inflection in 
poetry, — mentioned in the rules on inflections, — would 
Btill require it, in most instances. The structure o^ 



ERRORS, 1^9 

the common metre stanza makes this inflection pecu- 
liarly important to harmony. The closing syllable of 
the second line contains the sound which is to be re- 
peated for rhyme at the end of the fourth line; and if 
the former terminates with the same inflection as the 
latter, (which it must do if the falling slide is used in 
the former,) there is a kind of mocking echo produced, 
by the repetition of the inflection; and this mechani- 
cal correspondence is rendered peculiarly striking 
and disagreeable, by the additional influence of the 
rhyme, which takes away all possibility of the fault 
being obscured by any shade of variety in the sound 
of syllables. 

The bad effect of this echoing inflection, is farther 
heightened, in most instances, by the reader over- 
looking the fact, that, in the progress of the stanza, 
more force and depth of sentiment usually become 
perceptible in the third line; requiring, therefore, a 
lower pitch at its commencement, than the prevailing 
strain of the first and second lines. The neglect of 
an appropriate lowering of the note at this point, leaves 
the voice to drift out of the stanza on the same note 
nearly with that of the opening strain. Here is an 
additional cause of the unhappy effect of the echoing 
notes, at the close of the stanza, as compared with 
the end of the second line. To th^ unnecessary 
sameness of inflection, and the unavoidable sameness 
of rhyme, is added a perfect sameness of note in both 
cases; — all which would be avoided by attending to 
the proper inflection at the close of the second line, 
and the true pitch at the beginning of the third. The 
mocking or echoing cadence would thus be avoided. 

The effect of the above fault will be perceived by 
reading the following stanzas with the falling inflec- 
14* 



170 READING OF POETRY. 

tions instead of the rising, at the end of the second 
line, and keeping the same pitch on the last two lines 
as on the first two. 

** But not when the death-prayer is said, 

The life of life departs; 
The body in the grave is laid, 

Its beauty in our hearts. 

And holy midnight voices sweet 

Like fragrance fill the room ; 
And happy ghosts with noiseless feet 

Come brightening from the tomb." 

Rule. Poetry should be read more slowly than 
prosBy — with a moderate prolongation of vowel 
and liquid sounds, — with a slight degree of musi- 
cal utterance^ — in exact time, as prescribed by the 
emotion expressed in given passages, and by the 
nature of the verse. The utterance should indi- 
cate the metre, but should never render it promi- 
nent ; and in rhyming lines the rising inflection 
should generally terminate the first ; the falling 
being carefully avoided unless when indispensable 
to force of emotion, or to the completion of sense 
not connected with subsequent expression. 

SUGGESTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 

The fault oi rapidity may be most easily corrected 
by the pupil reading along with the teacher; the ex- 
orcise being simultaneously performed. This prac- 
tice may be continued till the proper rate of utterance 
is attained in simultaneous reading. The learner 



SUGGESTIONS. 171 

may, in his next stage of progress, read after the 
teacher, till he acquire such a command of his voice 
that he can read in the slowest style of utterance that 
any piece may require. This gradation of exercise 
may be transferred to the practice of whole classes; 
and stanzas suited to this purpose may be selected 
and arranged in such a succession as to produce, in 
one order, a gradual quickening of voice, and in 
another, a gradual retarding of it. 

The different rates of utterance which are most 
frequently required are the following: 

Sloivest : ' ' Night, sable goddess ! from her ebon throne, 
In rayless majesty, now stretches forth 
Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world. 
Silence how dead! and darkness how profound! 
Nor eye nor listening ear an object finds: 
Creation sleeps. 'Tis as the general pulse 
Of life stood still, and Nature made a pause, 
An awful pause, prophetic of her end." 

Slow: **This is the place, the centre of the grove: 
Here stands the oak, the monarch of the wood. 
How sweet and solemn is this midnight scene! 
The silver moon, unclouded, holds her way 
Through skies where I could count each little star; 
The fanning west wind scarcely stirs the leaves; 
The river rushing o'er its pebbled bed. 
Imposes silence with a stilly sound. — 
In such a place as this, at such an hour, 
(If ancestry can be in aught believ'd,) 
Descending spirits have conversed with man, 
And told the secrets of the world unknown." 

Moderate: '^ But who the melodies of morn can tell? 
The wild brook babbling down the mountain side; 



172 READING OF POETKY. 

The lowing herd; the sheepfold's simple bell; 
The pipe of early shepherd dim descried 
In the lone valley; echoing far and wide 
The clamorous horn along the cliffs above; 
The hollow murmur of the ocean tide; 
The hum of bees, and linnet's lay of love, 
And the full choir that wakes the universal grove." 

Lively: '"'With merriment and song, and timbrel's 
clear, 
A troop of dames from myrtle bowers advance: 
The little warriors doff the targe and spear, 
x4nd loud enlivening strains provoke the dance. 
They meet, they dart away, they wheel askance 
To right, to left, they thread the flying maze; 
Now bound aloft with vigorous spring, then glance 
Rapid along: with many-colour 'd rays 
Of tapers, gems, and gold, the echoing forests 
blaze." 

Quick: ''Now, even now, my joys run high, 
As on the mountain turf I lie; 
While the wanton zephyr sings. 
And in the vale perfumes his wings; 
While the waters murmur deep; 
While the shepherd charms his sheep; 
While the birds unbounded fly. 
And with music fill the sky. 
Now, even now, my joys run high." 

These exercises may be read backward, as a dis- 
cipline of the voice in retarding utterance. The ex- 
amples may then be read singly and taken at random, 
with a view to aid the learner in carrying a distinct 
conception of rate in his mind, so as to apply it when 
occasion requires. 



SUGGESTIONS. 173 

f The fault of prosaic utterance arises either from the 
want of a lively conception of the beauty of the ob- 
jects which poetry presents to the mind, or from a 
want of *' ear " for the effect of poetic numbers. The 
former source of error may be done away by conver- 
sation between the teacher and the pupil on the pieces 
which are read. Such conversation may be led by 
questions from the teacher, on the nature and char- 
acter of the objects which are described, or of the 
events which are related, in the passage which is read 
as an exercise. Skilful management in this way may 
prepare the mind of the reader for a full and natural 
expression of thought by the voice. ^ 

The want of ear for poetic tone requires attention to 
considerations more mechanical, and will occasion a 
necessity for frequent, particular, and minute illus- 
tration and explanation, on the part of the teacher. 
The difference between the appropriate tones of 
poety and those of prose, must be exemplified; and if 
the teacher possesses any knowledge of music, it will 
be found very serviceable, as a source of illustration 
in this department. I 

The faults of a sivelling and chanting utterance may 
be corrected by requiring of the pupil a previous 
reading of every exercise, in the tone of prose; and, 

* A preliminary analysis of this sort may be performed in an-^ 
swer to such questions as the following: '« What are the chief ob- 
jects, incidents, or sentiments, introduced in this piece, para* 
graph, or stanza?" <« What effect have these on the mind, or 
what feelings do they produce?" «« What are the tones of voice 
that express these feelings?" 

t Much assistance will be derived here from Dr. Rush's ThU 
losophy of the Voice, or from a clear and practical compend bj 
Pr, Barber, entitled a Grammar of Elocution .. 



174 READING OF POtTRY. 

to facilitate this discipline, a certain number of lines 
may be written off in the prose form, so as to aid the 
ear through the eye. When the tone of poetry is 
added, it should, especially at first, go but little be- 
yond that of prose, and thence be gradually, but 
carefully increased, till it attain the full expression of 
poetic utterance. 

Errors in time may be best corrected by a very slow 
and almost chanting tone, accompanied by a beat 
marking the time as in music. This exercise must at 
first be performed in conjunction between the pupil 
and the teacher; it may afterwards be repeated after 
the teacher; and, when sufficient progress has been 
made, it may be performed by the pupil alone. 

The faults of mechanical manner in the final and 
ccesural pause, are to be corrected by regarding only 
the true rhetorical pause, or by observing that of the 
punctuation, and by adverting to the nature of the 
pause required by the versification, so as to discrimi- 
nate the demi-csesura from the complete caesura, and 
the short, double, csesural from the long, single, 
csesural pause. 

The errors arising from too close an observance of 
metre, may be corrected by resorting, at first, to the 
manner of prose reading; writing off for this purpose, 
if necessary, a number of lines or stanzas as prose, 
on which to practise. Something of the prose tone 
may be retained as long as there is any risk of the 
tone of verse becoming too perceptible to the ear. 
The right point at which to stop, in proceeding from 
the prosaic tone towards that which becomes faulty, 
if carried to the opposite extreme, is a thing which 
depends on the exercise of the living voice, and can- 
notj therefore, be indicated with exactness in any 



SUGGESTIONS. 175 

written explanations on the subject. It may be 
spoken of, in general, as a middle point between 
extremes. But, with the aid of an instructer, the 
learner will not find it difficult to be ascertained. 

The error in the inflection of the common metre 
stanzas J is to be rectified by referring to the lesson on 
inflections and that on tones. 

Extracts adapted to most of the objects of practice 
on this lesson, are interspersed in the preceding 
pages, and in the '^ miscellaneous exercises " which 
follow. Additional pieces may be selected from 
any volume of reading lessons. The American First 
Class Book contains, perhaps, the best variety of ex- 
tracts generally accessible for such purposes. 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 



[The following extracts are designed to be used, not as a 
complete collection of pieces for all the purposes of read- 
ing, but as examples on which to apply the rules and prin- 
ciples contained in the preceding pages of this work. By 
practising on these selections, the student will become pre- 
pared to make a more intelligent and effectual use of the 
reading books in common use. 

When opportunity admits of studying with the aid of a 
teacher, it would be advisable to go through every piece 
with a careful preparatory analysis, applying the rules of 
inflection, emphasis, and pausing, and the principles of 
modulation. The pencil may be used to advantage fur the 
j)urpose of marking the principal words and clauses of 
every sentence with their appropriate modifications of 
voice ; the usual accents being employed to designate the 
inflections — a single or double perpendicular line for the 
pauses, according to their comparative length — and single 
or double underscoring for emphasis, according to its force. 
The changes of force, pitch, and rate, may be designated on 
the margin by initial letters ; ld^[loud;) s,{soft;) h,{high;) 
Iw., {low ;) /, (fast ;) sL, [slow ;) and intermediate qualities 
thus, M, (moderate force ;) m, (middle pitch ;) m, (moderate 
rate.) 

The exercises presented in the subsequent pages, are 
graduated by the rhetorical classification of the pieces, com- 
mencing with narrative and descriptive style, and avoiding 
tlie introduction of didactic subjects till the easier forms of 
writing have been practised. This gradation^ though little 
15 



178 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES, 

observed in most reading books, is of great importance to 
the acquisition of an easy, unaffected style of reading. The 
formal tones commonly heard in school reading, may nearly 
all be traced to the injudicious premature practice of read- 
ing didactic pieces. 

The natural progress of elocution is that of the growth 
and expansion of the mind itself. We first learn to tell what 
has happened to ourselves or others, next to describe an 
object or a place which we have seen, then to expre&s a sen- 
timent, arising, perhaps, from the incident which we relate 
or the scene which we describe. But most reading books 
commence with formal, didactic sentiments, originally ut- 
tered, perhaps, in the pulpit. The expression of these de- 
mands full maturity of mind; the discipline of much reflec- 
tive reasoning, and a perfect command of all the most com- 
plex and dilKcult principles of utterance. Such exercises 
are excellent subjects for practice, at a late stage of pro- 
gress in elocution ; but to prescribe them as elementary 
lessons, is equally absurd and injurious. 

The reading lessons which follow, have been selected 
not on the common princii)le of regard to the rhetorical ex- 
cellence of the composition, or the eminence of the author's 
name, a§ a classic in English literature, or the weight and 
value of the sentiment, which the extract is used to incul- 
cate. A reasonable attention to these points has not, it is 
hoped, been neglected. But the main object in view in the 
insertion of every piece introduced among the following 
lessons, has been to furnish matter adapted to the purposes 
of elocution^ — to present subjects which naturally produce 
true, vivid, effective reading. This result depends wholly 
on the character of the narration, or the description, or the 
sentiment, itself. The inspiration of genuine elocution 
must come from the thought or the emotion which the sub- 
ject necessarily involves. Classical accuracy or elegance 
of composition has very little to do with it. 

Nor is it the importance of a sentiment, in the abstract, 
that can rationally be expected to suggest an appropriate 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 179 

elocution. A sentiment can be well expressed only on 
condition of its being true and natural to the individual 
who utters it. An artificial and mechanical tone, will 
otherwise be sure to betray affectation in the reader. The 
didactic pieces which are introduced in the following se- 
lection, have been chosen with reference to their tendency 
to produce true and spirited reading, especially in young 
students. If this result should, in some instances, appear 
to have been overlooked, it is owing to the necessity of pre- 
senting some pieces which miglit furnish adequate exercise 
for mature minds ; as the author hopes that this volume, 
though primarily intended for classes in schools and acade- 
mies, may be found useful to adults who are desirous of 
cultivating the art of elocution, for the purposes of pro- 
fessional life.] 

Exercise I. 

Extraordinary Memory. — Anecdotes of the French 
Revolution. 

Napoleon, late emperor of the French, possessed 
an uncommonly retentive memory. The articles of 
the civil code, after having been drawn up, and taken 
into consideration, in private conferences, were sub- 
mitted to the discussion of the council of state, at 
which Bonaparte frequently presided. Treilhard^ 
wondered at the readiness with which Napoleon fre- 
quently illustrated the point in question, by quoting, 
extempore, whole passages from the Roman civil 
law, — a subject which, from its nature, seemed to be 
entirely foreign to him. One day, the emperor re- 
quested his attendance in order to acquaint him with 

* An eminent jurist, employed in compiling the f*' Code Na- 
poleon>" 



180 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES, 

some new ideas on criminal legislation. After con- 
versing together, for some time, they formed them- 
selves into a little committee; and the counsellor of 
state took the liberty of asking the emperor how he 
had acquired so familiar a knowledge of law affairs, 
considering that his whole life had been spent in 
camps. Bonaparte replied: 

'' When I was a mere lieutenant, I was put under ar- 
rest, unjustly it is true ; but that is nothing to the point. 
The little room which was assigned for my prison, 
contained no furniture but an old chair, an old bed, 
and an old cupboard. In the cupboard was a ponder- 
ous folio volume, older and more worm-eaten than all 
the rest: it proved to be the Digest.^ As I had no 
paper, pens, ink, nor pencils, you may easily imagine 
that this book was a valuable prize to me. It was so 
voluminous, and the leaves were so covered with 
marginal notes in manuscript, that, had I been con- 
fined a hundred years, I could never have been idle. 
I was only ten days deprived of my liberty; but^ on 
recovering it, I was saturated with Justinian, | and 
the decisions of the Roman legislators. Thus I pick- 
ed up my knowledge of civil law." 

Ex. II. 

Domestic and personal character of Sir Walter Scott. — 
Peter's Letters. 

There is nothing like display or formal leading in 
Sir Walter's conversation. On the contrary, every 

* Compend of civil law. 

t The emperor by whose order was compiled the code of Ro- 
man civil law, and whose name it bears. 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 18l 

body seems to speak the more that he is there to 
hear; and his presence seems to be enough to make 
every body speak delightfully; — as if it had been that 
some princely musician had tuned all the strings,, and, 
even under the sway of more vulgar fingers, they 
could not choose but discourse excellent music. His 
conversation, besides, is, for the most part, of such 
a kind that all can take a lively part in it; although, 
indeed, none that I ever met with can equal himself. 
It does not appear as if he ever could be at a loss, 
for a single moment, for some new supply of that 
which constitutes its chief peculiarity and its chief 
charm; the most kee.n perception, the most tenacious 
memory, and the most brilliant imagination, having 
been at work, through the whole of his busy life, in 
filling his mind with a store of individual traits and 
anecdotes, serious and comic, individual and national, 
such as, it is probable, no man ever before possessed, 
and such, still more certainly, as no man of great 
original powder ever before possessed, in subservience 
to the purposes of inventive genius. 

A youth spent in wandering among the hills and 
valleys of his native country, during which he became 
intensely familiar with all the lore of those grey- 
headed shepherds among whom the traditions of war- 
like, as w^ell as of peaceful times, find their securest 
dwelling-place, or in more equal converse with the 
relics of that old school of Scottish cavaliers, whose 
faith had nerved the arms of so many of his own race 
and kindred. Such a boyhood, and such a youth, 
laid the foundation, and established the earliest and 
most lasting sympathies of a mind which was destined, 
in after years, to erect upon this foundation, and im- 
prove upon these sympathies, in a way of which his 
15=^ 



182 MISCELLANKOUS EXERCISES. 

young and thirsting spirit could have then contem^ 
plated but little. 

Through his manhood of active and honoured, and 
now, for many years, of glorious exertion, he has al- 
ways lived in the world, and among men of the world; 
partaking in all the pleasures and duties of society, 
as fully as those who had nothing but these pleasures^ 
and these duties to attend to. Uniting, as never be- 
fore they were united, the habits of an indefatigable 
student with those of an indefatigable observer; and 
doing all this with the easy and careless grace of one 
who is doing so, not to task, but to gratify, his incli- 
nation and his nature; is it to be wondered at that the 
riches of his various acquisitions, should furnish a 
never-failing source of admiration, even to those who 
have known him longest,, and who know him best? 



Ex. III. 

Paine^s escapes from the Guillotine, — Life of Paine. 

Writing an account of his escapes, Paine says, 
^'I was one of the nine members that composed the 
first 'committee of constitution.' Six of them have 
been destroyed: Sieyes and myself have survived. 
He, by bending with the times; and I, by not bend- 
ing. The other survivor joined Robespierre, and 
signed with him the warrant for my arrestation. After 
the fall of Robespierre, he was seized and imprisoned, 
in his turn, and sentenced to transportation. He has- 
since apologised to me for having signed the warrant, 
by saying he felt himself in danger, and was obliged 
to do it. Herault Schelles, an acquaintance of Mr. 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 183 

Jefferson's, and a good patriot, was my substitute, as 
a member of the committee of constitution; that is, 
he was to supply my place, if I had not accepted, or 
had resigned; — he being in number of votes next to 
me. He was imprisoned in the Luxembourg with me, 
was taken to the tribunal and to the guillotine; and I, 
his principal, was left. 

** There were but two foreigners in the convention, 
Anacharsis Cloots and myself.. We were both put 
out of the convention by the same vote, arrested by 
the same order, and carried to prison together, the 
same night. He was taken to the guillotine; and I 
was again left. Joel Barlow w^as with us, when we 
went to prison. 

''Joseph Lebon, one of the vilest characters that 
ever existed, and who made the streets of Arras run 
with blood, was my substitute for the department of 
the Pays de Calais. When I was put out of the con- 
vention, he came and took my place. When I was 
liberated from prison, and voted again into the con- 
vention, he v/as sent to the same prison, and took my 
place there; and he went to the guillotine instead of 
me. He supplied my place all the w^ay through. 

''One hundred and sixty-eight persons were taken 
out of the Luxembourg, in one night, and a hundred 
and sixty of them guillotined the next day, of which 
number I know I was to have been one; and the man- 
ner in which I escaped that fate, is curious, and has 
all the appearance of accident. The room in which I 
w^as lodged, was on the ground-floor, and one of a 
long range of rooms under a gallery; and the door 
of it opened outward, and flat against the wall, so 
that, when it was open, the inside of the door ap- 
peared outward, and the contrary when it was shut. 



184 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 

'^I had three comrades fellow-prisoners with me; 
Joseph Vanhuile of Bruges, since president of the 
municipality of that town, Michael Robins, and Bas- 
tine Louvain. When persons, by scores and by hun- 
dreds, were to be taken out of prison for the guillo- 
tine, it was always done in the night; and those who 
performed the office, had a private mark or signal, 
by which they knew what rooms to go to, and what 
number to take. 

*' We, as I said, were four; and the door of our 
room was marked, — unobserved by us, — with that 
number, in chalk; but it happened, (if happening be 
a proper word,) that the mark was put upon the door 
when it was open, and fiat against the wall, and there- 
by came on the inside, when we shut it at night — and 
the destroying angel passed by. A few days after 
this, Robespierre fell; and the American ambassador 
arrived, and claimed me, and invited me to his house.'' 



Ex. IV. 
Henry Francis co.-^Sil\knB,n. 

Two miles from Whitehall, on the Salem road to 
Albany, lives Henry Francisco, a native of France. 

Having a few hours to spare, before the departure 
of the steamboat for St. Johns, in Canada, we rode 
out to see (probably) the oldest man in America. 
He believes himself to be one hundred and thirty-four 
years old; and the country aground believes him to be 
of this great age. When we arrived at his residence, 
(a plain farmer's house not painted, rather out of re- 
pair, and much open to the wind,) he was above 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 185 

stairs, at his daily work of spooling and winding yarn. 
This occupation is auxihary to that of his wife, who is 
a weaver; and, although more than eighty years old, 
she weaves six yards a-day, and the old man can sup- 
ply her with more yarn than she can weave. 

Supposing he must be very feeble, we offered to go 
up stairs to him; but he soon came down, walking 
somewhat stooping, and supported by a staff, but with 
less apparent inconvenience than most persons ex- 
hibit at eighty-five or ninety. His stature is of the 
middle size; and, although his person is rather deli- 
cate and slender, he stoops but little, even when un- 
supported. His complexion is very fair and delicate, 
and his expression bright, cheerful, and intelligent: 
his features are handsome; and, considering that they 
have endured through one third part of a second 
century, they are regular, comely, and w^onderfully 
undisiigured by the hand of time: his eyes are of a 
lively blue: his profile is Grecian, and very fine: his 
head is completely covered with the most delicate 
and white locks imaginable, — they are so long and 
abundant, as to fall gracefully from the crown of his 
head, parting regularly from a central point, and 
reaching down to his shoulders: his hair is perfectly 
snow-white, except where it is thick in his neck; — 
when parted there, it shows some few dark shades, — 
the remnants of a former century. 

He still retains the front teeth of his upper jaw; 
his mouth is not fallen in like that of old people gen- 
erally; and his lips, particularly, are like those of 
middle life: his voice is strong and sweet-toned, al- 
though a little tremulous: his hearing, very little im- 
paired; so that a voice of usual strength, with dis- 
tinct articulation, enables him to understand: his eye- 



186 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 

sight is sufficient for his work; and he distinguishes 
large print, such as the title-page of the bible, with- 
out glasses: his health is good, and has always been 
so, except that he has now a cough. 

He informed us that his father, driven out of France 
by religious persecution, fled to Amsterdam. By his 
account, it must have been the persecution of the" 
French protestants, or Huguenots, in the latter part 
of the reign of Louis XIV. At Amsterdam, his father 
married his mother, a Dutch woman, five years be- 
fore Henry was born, and, before that event, returned 
with her into France. When he was five years old, 
his father again fled from persecution. He says he 
well remembers their flight, and that it was in the 
winter season; for he recollects that as they were de- 
scending a hill, which was covered with snow, he 
cried out to his father, '^ O father do go back, and get 
my little carriole!" 

From these dates we are enabled to fix the time of 
his birth, provided he is correct in the main fact; for 
he says he was present at Queen Anne's coronation, 
and was then sixteen years old, the thirty-first day of 
March, old style. His father, as he asserts, after his 
return from Holland, had been again driven from 
France, by persecution, and, the second time, took 
refuge in Holland, and afterwards in England, where 
he resided v/ith his family, at the time of the corona- 
tion of Queen Anne, in 1702. This makes Francisco 
to have been born in 1686, to have been expelled 
from France in 169J , and therefore to have completed 
his hundred and thirty-third year, on the eleventh of 
last June. Of course, he is now more than three 
months advanced in his hundred and thirty-fourth year. 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 187 

Ex. V. 

Miseries of War. — Silliman. 

The Baroness Redesdale gives, in her narrative^ 
the following recital respecting the death of general 
Fraser, who was killed while serving under general 
Burgoyne. 

•' Severe trials awaited us; and on the 7th of Octo- 
ber, our misfortunes began. I was at breakfast with 
my husbaad, and heard that something was intended. 
On the same day I expected the generals Burgoyne. 
Philips, and Fraser, to dine w^ith us. I saw a great 
movement among the troops: my husband told me it 
was a mere ' reconnoissance ; '* which gave me no con- 
cern; for it often happened. I walked out of the 
house,, and met several Indians in their war dresses, 
with guns in their hands. When I asked them where 
they were going, they cried out, '' War, war!" mean- 
ing that they were going to battle. This filled me 
with apprehensions; and I had scarcely got home be- 
fore I heard reports of cannon and musketry, which 
grew louder by degrees, till at last the noise became 
excessive. 

'^ About four o'clock in the afternoon, instead of the 
guests whom I expected, general Fraser was brought 
in on a litter, mortally wounded. The table, which 
was already spread, was instantly removed, and a bed 
placed in its stead, for the wounded general. I sat 
trembling in a corner: the noise grew louder; and the 
alarm increased. The thought that my husband might 

* Movement not intended for actual battle. 



188 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 

perhaps be brought in wounded, in the same manner^ 
was terrible to me, and distressed me exceedingly. 

*^ General Fraser said to the surgeon, 'Tell me if 
my wound is mortal: do not flatter me.' The ball 
which had entered his body, had unfortunately passed 
through his stomach. I heard him often exclaim, with 
a sigh, 'Oh! fatal ambition! poor general Burgoyne! 
Oh! my poor wife!' He was asked if he had any re- 
quest to make, to which he replied that, if general 
Burgoyne would permit it, he should like to be buried 
at six o'clock in the evening, on the top of a redoubt 
which had been built there. 

''At night, when I had put my children to bed, I 
could not go to sleep; as I had general Fraser and 
all the other wounded gentlemen in my room; and I 
was sadly afraid my children would awake, and, by 
their crying, disturb the dying man in his last mo- 
ments, who often addressed me, and apologised '*for 
the trouble he gave me/ 

"About three o'clock in the morning, I was told he 
could not hold out much longer. I had desired to be 
informed of the near approach of this sad crisis; and 
I then wrapped up my children in their clothes, and 
went with them into the room below. About eight 
o'clock in the morning, he died. After his corpse 
was laid outj and wrapped up in a sheet, we came 
again into the room; and we had this sorrowful sight 
before us the whole day; and, to add to the melan- 
choly scene, almost every moment some officer of my 
acquaintance was brought in wounded." 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 189 



Ex. VI. 

Remarkable instance of Honesty. — Chinese Official 
Gazette. 

Tsing-Tai, a merchant of Chen-Si, going to Mong- 
Tsingj for the purpose of purchasing cotton, carried 
with him a purse containing a hundred and seventy 
ounces of silver. While on the road which passes 
near the mountain of Song-Kia, he accidentally drop- 
ped the purse, and continued his journey. 

On the following morning, a poor labourer, named 
Chi-Yeou, employed in tilling some ground close to 
the spot, found the money. So far from wishing to 
appropriate the treasure to his own use, he determined, 
at once, to restore it; and with this view he remained 
working in sight of the place where the purse was 
found, till late at night; hoping that the owner would 
return to claim his property. No one appearing, Chi- 
Yeou went home; and, on displaying the prize to his 
wife, she immediately exclaimed, ''O my dear hus- 
band, we must not think of keeping this money; for 
it does not belong to us. I would rather live in pov- 
erty, than take the substance of others. Endeavour, 
therefore, to find the right owner to-morrow, and give 
up his money." 

Tsing-Tai, on arriving at the inn, was not a little 
astonished at the dreadful loss he had sustained; but 
totally ignorant where the purse could have fallen, 
and persuaded that any search, on his part, would be 
useless, he caused an advertisement to be posted in 
various quarters of the town, describing the particu- 
lars, and promising to divide the whole sum with him 
16 



190 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 

who should bring back the purse. Chi-Yeou soon 
heard of the public notice, and repaired, without a 
moment's loss of time, to the superintending manda- 
rin. ''I have found the purse," said he, ''send for 
the merchant of Chen-Si; and, by asking him a few 
questions, I can easily find out whether he is the 
right owner or not." ^ 

Tsing-Tai was accordingly summoned, and having 
answered a variety of interrogatories as to the form 
of the purse, and the sum of money it contained, there 
could be no doubt of the justice of his claim : he there- 
fore had the inexpressible satisfaction of seeing it re~ 
turned inthe^ame state in which it fell from his mule. 

Transported with joy at this most agreeable sur- 
prise, Tsing-Tai opened the purse, and turned to the 
finder; addressing him in these words: ''I declared, 
in my notice, that I would divide the money with who- 
ever returned it. I now wish to keep my word." 
'' No," replied the labourer, '' I have no right to any 
part of the purse; and I will not receive a single 
ounce." The refusal of Chi-Yeou had no effect on 
the grateful merchant, who counted out eighty-five of 
the pieces, insisting on the former's accepting them, — - 
but to no purpose. All this passed at the door of 
Chi-Yeou; and many of his neighbours were witnesses 
of the admirable contention. 

At length, Tsing-Tai seeing that Chi-Yeou posi- 
tively refused the proffered reward, and anxious to 
prove his gratitude, adopted another plan. He placed 
a hundred and seven ounces on one side, and taking 
up the remaining sixty-three, said, ''I will not con- 
ceal from you that the portion of money which I have 
just put into the purse, was borrowed; but as to that 
in my hand, it is really my own. I request, therefore, 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 191 

that you will not hesitate to accept it." ''No," re- 
plied, Chi-Yeou, *' I have no more right to one part 
than the other: both are your property ; and you must 
keep them." 

All who were present were so charmed with this 
proof of disinterestedness, that they immediately went 
to the chief mandarin, and related what had just hap- 
pened. The latter, equally struck with this circum- 
stance, and desirous that it should be made known to 
the government, called the parties before him, in- 
quired into all the particulars, and concluded by 
making a special report of the facts to the viceroy of 
Ho-Nan, the province in which they occurred. This 
officer instantly sent a present of fifty ounces in silver 
to the honest labourer and his wife, as an acknowledg- 
ment of their virtue. He gave them, at the same 
time, a picture representing the generous contention 
that took place before their door, with this motto in- 
scribed underneath: '' Jl husband and wife distinguish" 
ed by their disinterestedness and generosity.'^ 

Not content with these proofs of approbation, the 
viceroy ordered the treasurer-general of the province 
to register the fact, and circulate it in every direc- 
tion, in order that the people might profit by so 
praise-worthy an action. The governor of Mong- 
Sing was also ordered to erect a monument opposite 
to Chi-Yeou's house; and, finally, the whok case 
was considered worthy of being reported to the em- 
peror. 

The sovereign not less pleased with the story, than 
the viceroy, and determined to profit by so fair an op- 
portunity to promote a reformation among those of 
his subjects who might feel less inclined to perform 
similar acts of virtue, wrote a mandate, with his own 



192 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 

hand, a copy of which was sent into the respective 
provinces, accompanied by a transcript of the vice- 
roy's memorial, — ordaining that the labourer Chi- 
Yeou was to be henceforth regarded as an honorary 
mandarin of the seventh class; that he should have 
the privilege of wearing the robe and the cap allotted 
to that rank ; in addition to all which a hundred 
ounces were given to him, for the purpose of exciting 
others to imitate his example. 



Ex. YU. 

Louis XL, and the Prior of Cosmo, — Hall. ' 

The prior of Cosmo, a man of singular piety, even 
in an age famous for its devotion, had obtained the 
king's permission to make a pilgrimage to the holy 
land; and so much time had elapsed since his de- 
parture, that it became the fixed belief of many, — but 
especially of those who had any interest in so believ- 
ing, — that he had either died during his journey,, 
or was held in perpetual captivity by the infidels. 
Among those who most pertinaciously held this opin- 
ion, was one of the king's chaplains, who had long 
set his eye and heart on what he willingly consid- 
ered the vacant priory; and so frequently and forci- 
bly did he express his opinion on this head, that the 
king himself began at last to consider that what was 
every day asserted could not very well be without 
foundation; and the chaplain became, in consequence, 
prior of Cosmo. 

Scarcely, however, had he begun to have a lively 
sense of his sovereign's goodness, and his own com- 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 193 

fort, and to feel himself at home in his new dignity, 
when, one morning, blanched with fatigue and age, 
and supporting his enfeebled frame on his long pil- 
grim's staff, the old prior himself made his appear- 
ance at the royal levee. As may be supposed, this 
sudden apparition produced much surprise, and a 
little awkwardness. 

Louis XI. had too high notions of royal consistency 
ever to undo what he had once done, whether right 
or wrong; while, at the same time, his generous dis- 
position would not suffer him to regard the offence of 
the old man's being thus inconveniently alive as call- 
ing for any very severe or immediate punishment. 
He therefore received him very graciously, touched 
as little as possible upon the loss of his priory, spoke 
of omitting no opportunity of benefiting him, in any 
way he might be able to point out, asked questions about 
the grand Turk, and concluded by consigning him to 
Philip de Comines, his secretary for the home depart^ 
ment, who, with a most friendly squeeze of the hand, 
bowed him out of the palace. 

The old man had, unfortunately, however, some 
stubborn notions of right about him, which prevented 
his acquiescing, as readily as became a loyal subject, 
in the loss he had sustained, notwithstanding the very 
flattering manner in which it was palliated. On the 
contrary, he omitted no opportunity of presenting 
himself before the royal countenance, and requesting, 
in earnest but respectful terms, that his priory might 
be restored to him. 

Now not only was there a degree of provoking ob- 
stinacy in this conduct, but there was even an odor of 
treason about it; for, as Louis justly reasoned, thus 
to iterate his suit was, by implication, to assert that, 
16=* 



194 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 

without such iteration, it would prove unavailing;-^ 
and what was this, but to impeach the sovereign's 
prime attribute of justice, and thus covertly to hold 
him up as unfit for his kingly office? It was upon the 
spur of some such reflections as these, and immedi- 
ately after an interview with the importunate subject 
of them, that Louis, calling to his friend and minister, < 
Tristan, bade him without delay dispose of the prior 
of Cosmo, that he might be no more troubled with 
him. 

Now Tristan was not only too loyal to dispute his 
master's will, but he had moreover the delicacy of 
feeling which forbade him to pry into the reasons by 
which it might be influenced, in his mind, the will 
of heaven and that of the king were the same thing; 
or, rather, the latter claimed a superiority over the 
former, in proportion as the consequences of obedi- 
ence or rebellion in the latter case, were more sen- 
sible and more immediate than in the former. He ac- 
cordingly took an opportunity of calling on the prior, 
that same evening, whom he found, nothing aware of 
his approaching fate, enjoying a social hour with a 
few particular friends. 

As Tristan was well known to be a favourite at 
court, it may be supposed he was received with the 
utmost politeness, and requested to take a seat at the 
table. The invitation he at first modestly declined; 
but, upon being pressed, consented to take a single 
glass of wine; after which, he requested a few mo- 
ments' private conversation with the prior, to whom, 
as soon as they were alone, he presented the royal 
order, together with the sack in which he was to be 
enclosed and thrown into the Seine. 

The next morning, as king Louis was taking the air 



litlSCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 195 

in the Louvre garden, chatting freely with his faithful 
Tristan on matters concerning the welfare of his 
Tealm, and inwardly congratulating himself on being 
at length rid of the eternal prior, on turning suddenly 
the corner of an alley, to his inexpressible dismay, he 
beheld the apparition of the old bearded suitor again 
crawling towards him. '' Ah! traitor," he exclaimed, 
turning upon Tristan, ''did I not charge you to rid me 
of that cursed prior ; and here he is again before 
me?" '' Sire," replied the terrified favourite, ''you 
charged me to rid you of the prior of Cosmo; and 1 
went accordingly to the priory, whence I took and 
drowned him, yesterday evening. But gracious sir, 
there is no harm done by the mistake: a prior more 
or less can make but little difference this evening: 
I'll rid you of this one also." "No, no," said the 
king, smiling graciously, (for he w^as a monarch of 
most legitimate facetiousness,) " one prior is enough 
at a time. — Go, old man, and take possession of your 
priory: you'll now find it vacant." 



Ex. VIII. 

Religious Character of the Tyrolese. —Ohsevvations on 
the Tyrolese. 

Perhaps the most remarkable feature in the charac- 
ter of the Tyrolese, is their uniform piety, — a feeling 
which is nowhere so universally diffused, as among 
their sequestered valleys. The most cursory view of 
the country, is sufficient to demonstrate the strong 
hold which religion has taken on the minds of the 
peasantry. Chapels are built at almost ev^ry half 



196 MlSCELLANEOtrs EXERCISES. 

mile on the principal roads, in which the passenger 
may perform his devotions, or which may awaken the 
thoughtless mind to a recollection of its religious 
duties. The rude efforts of art have there been ex- 
erted to portray the leading events in the life of our 
Saviour; and innumerable figures carved in wood, 
attest, in every part of the country, both the barba- 
rous taste of the people, and the fervour of their reli^ 
gious impressions. 

Even in the higher parts of the mountains, where 
hardly any vestiges of human cultivation are to be 
found, — in the depth of untrodden forests, or on the 
summits of seemingly inaccessible cliffs, the symbols 
of devotion are to be found ; and the cross rises 
everywhere amidst the wilderness, as if to mark the 
triumph of Christianity over the greatest obstacles of 
nature. 

Nor is it only in solitudes or deserts that the ves^ 
tiges of their devotion are to be found. In the val- 
leys and in the cities it still preserves its ancient 
sway over the people. On the exterior of most houses 
the legend of some favourite saint, or the sufferings 
of some popular martyr, are to be found; and the 
poor inhabitant thinks himself secure from the greater 
evils of life, under their heavenly guardianship. In 
every valley, numerous spires are to be seen, rising 
amidst the beauty of the surrounding scene, and re- 
minding the traveller of the piety of its simple in- 
habitants. 

On Sunday, the whole people flock to church, in 
their neatest and gayest attire; and so great is the 
number who frequent these places of worship, that it 
is not unfrequent to see the peasants kneeling on the 
turf in the church-yard where mass is performed, from 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 197 

being unable to find a place within the walls of the 
church. Regularly, in the evening, prayers are read 
in every family; and the traveller who passes through 
the villages, at the hour of twilight, often sees, through 
their latticed windows, the young and the old kneeling 
together round their humble fire, or is warned of his 
approach to human habitation, by hearing their eve- 
ning hymns stealing through the solitude and silence 
of the forest = 



Ex. IX. 

Mexican Indian Dance. — Hippesley. 

The Indian dance is not only amusing but scien- 
tific: it would create wonder and applause on any 
stage in Europe. The leader is styled their chief, or 
Indian king, to whom the others pay implicit obedi- 
ence. The chief, and twelve Indian lads, from twelve 
to fifteen years of age, are dressed in the costume of 
the country. A short petticoat tied round the waist, 
and decorated with various coloured feathers, com- 
poses the whole of the body dress. The petticoat ex- 
tends almost to the knees, and is very tastefully orna- 
mented. Round the head, a coronet of coloured 
paper is displayed, decorated with plumes of feathers; 
and their long, twisted, black hair gives a finished ap- 
pearance to the whole. 

The chief alone wears a mantle, adorned with pieces 
of scarlet cloth, gracefully thrown over his shoulders, 
and, with a sort of sceptre in his hand, commands the 
whole. He wears a large coronet on his head. 

The boys are all armed with bows and arrows; and. 



198 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 

having formed themselves into two lines, their king 
walks down the middle, and seats himself in the chair 
of state. He is supposed to personate Montezuma, 
who, on receiving a letter from Cortez, demanding 
unconditional surrender of his person and treasures, 
is so irritated and displeased as to cause him to tear 
the letter in pieces before his body-guard; aad, hav- ■ 
ing imparted to them its contents, demands of them if 
they are willing to die in their chieftain's defence. 
Their answer is an instantaneous prostration of them- 
selves at the feet of their monarch, in token of their 
firm resolution to defend him to the last extremity, 
and to die in his cause. The piece then concludes; 
and dancing recommences. 

The pole-dance usually closes the diversion of the 
afternoon, — a dance so called from the production of 
a pole about ten feet high, and about four or five 
inches in circumference. At the head is a round 
ball, or trunk, immediately under which are fastened 
twelve differently coloured and variously striped 
pieces of French tape, about half an inch broad, and 
about twelve feet in length. The pole being kept 
perpendicularly supported, each Indian lad lays hold 
of a line of tape, which is drawn to its full length; 
the whole forming a large circle around the pole, one. 
regularly covering his companion in front. At a sig- 
nal from the chief, the music strikes up a favourite 
tune; and the circle is set in motion, half of the per- 
formers facing to the right. On the second signal, 
each steps off*, and, meeting the others, they pass on, 
in succession, right and left, and so continue until the 
twelve lines of tape are entwined, in checked order, 
from the top to the bottom of the pole; and so regu- 
lar is the appearance, that it would be difficult to find 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 199 

a flaw or mistake. A halt, for a moment, takes 
place; and the same process is again renewed, to un- 
wind the tape, which is as regularly completed as be- 
fore, by inverting the dance, and leading from left 
to right. This exercise is not only graceful, but the 
movements of the whole are in step and time to the 
various cadences which the instrument produces. 
At the various periods when I saw this performance, 
the instrument was a violin, and the tune a favourite 
French waltz. 



Ex. X= 
Modern Venice, — Letters from Venice. 

The city, viewed from Fusina, presents a remark- 
able and superb appearance, rising as from the 
waters, and crowned with pinnacles, domes, and 
spires. We entered by the Grand Canal, and landed 
near the famous Rialto, composed of a single arch 
throv>ai over the canal. But how beautiful soever it 
may appear to the Venitians, v/e thought it trifling, 
when compared with the graceful proportions of the 
Black Friars' and Waterloo bridges of our own 
capital. 

We ascended the tower of St. Mark, in order to 
obtain a general idea of this metropolis. Its height 
is not extraordinary; but, from the flatness of the 
surrounding scenery, it gives the spectator an advan- 
tageous view of the city, its port, and shipping, and 
the windings of the neighbouring coasts. 

One side of this celebrated square was designed by 
Palladio, and is characterised by the richest archi- 



200 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 

tectural ornaments. It affords a principal promenade 
in the evenings, and, when fully lighted, has a bril- 
liant appearance. The ground floors are occupied 
chiefly by caffes, and the shops of jewellers, in which 
gold chains are sold by weight, and vary in price, 
according to the value of bullion. 

The church of St. Mark, which occupies one side 
of the square, was constructed on the model of Santa 
Sophia, at Constantinople. If it is a correct copy, 
the taste of the original must have been defective. 

The interior has a gloomy appearance ; but it 
boasts of large designs in mosaic, over the domes. 
The floor, which undulates like the waves of the sea, 
is adorned in the same manner. 

The exterior is decorated with five domes, and 
numerous statues; and its walls are painted in fresco; 
but the general outline is heavy. The famous bronze 
horse, supposed to have been the workmanship of 
Lysippus, surmounts the portico. 

In the library, formerly the council-room, are por- 
traits of the doges, and paintings representing the ^ 
sieges and the reduction of Constantinople by the' 
Venitians; and, on the ceiling, a beautiful design of 
the civic Genius crowned by Fame. This last is 
from the pencil of Paul of Verona. Here is also a 
marble bust of the emperor of Austria, and a sculp- 
ture of Ganymede borne aloft by the eagle. The 
present council-room and its ante-chamber are orna- 
mented by the same painter. 

Proceeding to the palace, we were shown, in the 
first room, a veiled statue of Coradini, similar to that 
of Pudor at Naples; in the third, paintings of Lucre- 
tia stabbing herself, and Moses striking the rock; in 
the fourth, a sacrifice of Iphigenia; and in the fifths 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 201 

the story of Phaeton driving the chariot of the sun. 
The designs of all these are beautiful ; and hours 
might be spent in their investigation. In the eighth 
room, is a cartoon of Raphael representing Noah en- 
tering the ark, and two paintings of John the Baptist. 
The floors are paved with rich mosaic. In La Scuola 
are some fine paintings of the Annunciation, the Cru- 
cifixion, and the slaughter of the Innocents: the latter 
seems a favourite subject with the Venitians. The 
churches are handsome and similarly ornamented. 
In that of Santa Maria della Salute, are some splendid 
pieces by Titian, 

The arsenal, once so celebrated, is now shut up. 
Nearly four hundred bridges form a communication 
between the different streets; and the gondolas are 
continually in motion, gliding along with incredible 
rapidity, whilst the splendid churches and palaces 
which are constantly presenting themselves, form a 
pleasing succession, and interest the traveller as well 
by their magnificence as their novelty. 



Ex. XL 

Institution for the Education of Blind Children at 
Vienna, — Letters from Vienna. 

During my stay in Vienna, I visited, among other 
curiosities, the institution for the education of blind 
children. The building is situated in one of the 
suburbs. The two lateral wings of the edifice en- 
close a spacious court-yard, and adjoin a garden, 
planted with shady trees, and furnished with green 
bowers and seats. 

17 



I 



202 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES* 

I must confess I experienced a sort of melancholy 
sensation, on entering the school-room where about 
thirty blind children were assembled. But my sad- 
ness was soon dissipated, when I saw that these un- 
fortunate beings were reconciled to their fate, and 
most of them very cheerful. Not to disturb them in 
this happy mood, and to avoid exciting desires in^ 
them, which it would be impossible to satisfy, a print- 
ed table is hung upon the wall, requesting stranger& 
to forbear from expressing, aloud, any sentiment of 
sympathy. 

If all the children of this institution were such as 
had been deprived of their sight from their birth, it 
would require less art to explain how they support, 
with so much indifference, the want of the noblest of 
the senses, and are withal content and happy; as in 
this case they may be said, with great propriety, ta 
be ignorant of what they forego. But there are also- 
to be found amongst them some young men who, till 
their eighth, nay, even till their twelfth year, had en- 
joyed their sight, and who, nevertheless, grieve and 
repine as little as the blind born. Besides that youth 
assuages every ill, the society of their equals at the 
institution, and the continual activity and useful oc- 
cupation, in which they are kept, contribute to their 
cheerfulnessc 

Of the advantageous effect of the latter means upon 
them, I felt the more convinced from the explanation 
given me, and the rest of the company present, of the 
method of instruction, and on being shown the exer- 
cises and acquirements of the pupils. 

Music formed the first part. From twelve to four- 
teen pupils, partly with wind and partly with chorded 
instruments, performed several pieces according to 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 203 

the rules of the musical art. They joined so accu- 
rately, observed time and every thing else with such 
precision, as to leave nothing to desire. 

Theirs is not a laboriously acquired mechanical 
expertness without theory. They are acquainted with 
the noting system, are able to practise whole pieces 
by raised and tangible notes; and their instruction in 
music is founded on theoretical principles, on their 
fine musical ear, in which they excel the greater part 
of those who can see, and on the always preceding 
instruction in singing. By these means they make 
rapid progress, even in the execution, so that if lon- 
ger pieces are but twice or thrice played to them, 
they enter fully into their comprehension. Two boys 
of twelve years, played a four-handed sonata of Mo- 
zart's with the greatest accuracy. 

We next saw the blind read and write. For read- 
ing, they make use of a raised letter-press, which 
they read very expeditiously, by the touch. With 
this letter-press, several mottoes, prayers, almanacs, 
and tables for history, have been printed^ partly by^ 
the pupils themselves. 

Writing is practised in the usual way, with a lead 
pencil, with a pin, or v/ith ink. I obsjerved several 
boys write, very legibly, a theme dictated by a stran- 
ger. As it so happened that these very children had 
been blind from their birth, and had therefore never 
seen the figure of a letter, I could not but consider 
this the most difficult part of the instruction of the 
hlind. 

A particular kind of characters, which appeared as 
if pierced through with pins, but was, as ^ve saw 
afterwards, done with letters consisting of fine points, 
affords material service to the blind. These charac- 



204 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 

ters are legible to them by the touch; and they cor- 
respond by means of them with their absent parents 
and relations, who answer them in similar characters. 
We had an opportunity of seeing such letters ad- 
dressed to a young girl at the institution, and which 
had been written by her mother residing at the dis- 
tance of eighty leagues from her. You must form a 
proper conception of the situation of both mother and 
daughter, in order to appreciate the value of an ex- 
pedient so capable of affording them consolation. 



Ex. XII. 

Phenomena of the Atmosphere of J\*eivfoundland, — 
Anspach. 

In Europe, the dry freezing winds proceed from 
north to east: in Newfoundland, they are from north 
to west. When these winds prevail, the sky is clear, 
and of a dark blue, and the nights transcendently 
beautiful. The moon displays far greater radiance 
than in Europe; and in her absence her function is 
not ill-supplied by the uncommon and fiery brightness 
of the stars. The aurora borealis frequently tinges 
the sky with coloured rays of such brilliancy, that their 
splendor, not effaced even by that of the full moon, is 
of the utmost magnificence when the moon does not 
shine. Sometimes it begins in the form of a scarf of 
bright light, with its extremities resting on the hori- 
zon which, with a motion resembling that of a fishing- 
net, and a noise similar to the rustling of silk, glides 
softly up the sky, when the lights frequently unite in 
the zenith, and form the top of a crown: at other 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 205 

VimeSj the motion is like that of a pair of colours, 
waving in the air; and the different tints of light pre- 
sent the appearance of so many vast streamers of 
changeable silk, or spreading into vast columns and 
altering slowly or by rapid motions into an immense 
variety of shapes, varying their colours from all the 
tints of yellow, to the most obscure russet. 

After having briskly skimmed along the heavens, 
or majestically spread itself from the horizon to the 
zenith, on a sudden it disappears; leaving behind a 
uniform dusky tract: this is again illuminated, and, 
in the same manner, suddenly extinguished. Some- 
times it begins with some insulated rays from the 
north and the north east, which increase by degrees 
till they fill the whole sky] forming the most splendid 
sight that can be conceived, crackling, sparkling, 
hissing, and making a noise similar to that of artificial 
fire-works. 

These phenomena, which are generally considered 
as the effects of electricity, are looked upon as the 
forerunners of storms; and when these arise from the 
north-east, they spread the most horrid gloom over 
the island. Immense islands and fields of ice, brought 
down from the northern regions, fill up and freeze 
every bay and harbor, and block up the coast, to the 
distance of several leagues into the ocean. The wind 
blowing over this immense surface, is full of frozen 
fogs, or frost-smoke, rising from the ice, in the shape 
of an infinite number of spicuhe, visible to the naked 
eye, penetrating every pore of the body, and the 
smallest apertures of the wooden houses, and render- 
ing exposure to the open air very disagreeable and 
even painful. 

17* 



» 



206 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES* 

Ex. XIII. 

Genius and Method, — Diderot. 

At seven o^clock, the company sat down to cardsj 
and Messrs. Le Roy, Grimm, the Abbe Galiani, and 
I, began to converse, 

A dispute arose between Grimm and Le Roy about 
genius and method. Grimm detests method : it is, 
according to himj the pedantry of literature. Those 
that can do nothing, he maintained, but arrange, had 
better not give themselves the trouble; those who 
can learn nothing but by means of arrangements, had 
as well remain ignorant. '' But," said Le Roy, ''it is 
method which makes genius available." — ''And which 
spoils it." They said a great many things which it is 
not worth while mentioning to you; and they would 
have said a great many m.ore, had not Galiani inter- 
rupted them. 

"I remember a fable, my friends, which I must tell 
you. It is rather long, perhaps, but it won't tire you. 

" One day in the middle of a wood, there arose a 
dispute about singing between the nightingale and 
the cuckoo. Each gave the preference to his own 
talent. ' What bird,' said the cuckoo, ' has so simple, 
natural, and measured a song as I?' — 'What bird,' 
said the nightingale, ' has a song so sweet, varied, 
light, and brilliant as mine?' ' I say few things/ said 
the cuckoo, 'but they have weight and order, and 
one remembers them.' 'I am fond of talking,' said 
the nightingale, ' but what I say is always new, and 
never wearies. I enchant the woods, the cuckoo 
saddens them. He is so attached to his mother's les- 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 207 

son, that he never hazards a note he has not learned 
from her. I acknowledge no teacher: I laugh at 
rules; and it is when I break through them that I am 
most admired. Where is the comparison between 
your dull method and my happy flights?' 

''The cuckoo made many attempts to interrupt the 
nightingale. But nightingales sing for ever, and 
never listen — it is a little failing of theirs. Our 
friend, carried away by her ideas, ran on without 
minding her rival's answer. 

'VAt last, however, they agreed to refer the matter 
to some arbitrator. But where were they to find an 
enlightened and impartial judge? They set out in 
search of one. 

*' In crossing a meadow, they fell in with an ass of 
the most grave and solemn aspect. Such length of 
ears never was seen since the creation of the species. 
* Ah!' said the cuckoo, ' we are in luck. Our quar- 
rel is an affair of the ear, and here is an admirable 
pair of them. This is the very judge we want.' 

''The ass was browsing, and never dreaming that 
he was one day to be a judge of music. But stranger 
things sometimes happen. Our two birds lighted be- 
side him, complimented him on his gravity and judg- 
ment, explained the subject of their dispute, and beg- 
ged him very humbly to decide it. 

"But the ass, scarcely turning round his clumsy 
head, and continuing to browse most diligently, made 
them a sign with his ears that he was hungry, and 
that he was not that day holding a bed of justice. 
The birds insist — the ass continues to browse. At 
last, however, his appetite was appeased. There 
were some trees planted on the skirt of the meadow. 
'Well,' said he, 'go there, and I will come to you. 



208 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES* 

You sing and I will digest. I will listen to you, and 
then give you my opinion.' 

''The birds take flight, and perch in a tree. The 
ass follows them with the air and step of a chief jus- 
tice. He lay down on the grass, and called to them, 
' Begin: the court will hear you.' 

'' 'My lord,' said the cuckoo, 'you must not lose a 
note I sing; you must seize the character of my 
song; and, above all, be pleased to observe its con- 
trivance and method.' Then, drawing himself up, 
and clapping his wings each time, he began to sing, 
'Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckuckoo, cuckoo, cuckuckoo!' 
and after having combined these notes in all possible 
ways, he held his peace. 

"The nightingale, without any preamble, began to 
display her voice, struck into the boldest modular 
tions, and warbled the most singular and original 
strains. Her song was successively sweet, airy, bril- 
liant, and pathetic; but it was not music for every* 
body. 

" Carried away by her enthusiasm, she would have 
sung longer; but the ass, who had been yawning 
fearfully all the while, interrupted her. ' I have no 
doubt,' said he, 'that all that you have been singing 
is very fine, but I can make nothing of it. It seems 
to me to be strange, confused, and incoherent. You 
are perhaps more learned than your rival, but he is 
more methodical than you; and, for my part, I am for 
method.' 

"Now," said the Abbe, addressing M. Le Roy, 
and pointing to Grimm with his finger, "there is the 
nightingale — you are the cuckoo — and I am the ass 
who decides in your faveur. Good night!" 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 209 

Ex. XIV. 

Wisdom of Providence, — Addison. 

As I was walking, this morning, in the great yard 
that belongs to my friend's country house, I was won- 
derfully pleased to see the different workings of in- 
stinct in a hen followed by a brood of ducks. The 
young, upon the sight of a pond, immediately ran into 
it; while the stepmother, with all imaginable anxiety, 
hovered about the borders of it, to call them out of an 
element that appeared to her so dangerous and de- 
structive. As the different principle which acted in 
these different animals, cannot be termed reason, so 
when we call it instinct, we mean something we have 
no knowledge of. To me, as I hinted in my last 
paper, it seems the immediate direction of Providence, 
and such an operation of the Supreme Being, as that 
which determines all the portions of matter to their 
proper centres. A modern philosopher, quoted by 
Monsieur Bayle in his learned dissertation on the 
Souls of Brutes, delivers the same opinion, though in 
a bolder form of words, where he says, ^^God himself 
is the soul of brutes." Who can tell what to call 
that seeming sagacity in animals, which directs them 
to such food as is proper for them, and makes them 
naturally avoid whatever is noxious or unwholesome ? 
Dampier, in his Travels, tells us, that when seamen 
are thrown upon any of the unknown coasts of 
America, they never venture upon the fruit of any 
tree, how tempting soever it may appear, unless they 
observe that it is marked with the pecking of birds; but 
fall on without any fear or apprehension where the 
birds have been before them. 



210 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 

But, notwithstanding animals have nothing like the 
use of reason, we find in them all the lower parts of 
our nature, the passions and senses, in their greatest 
strength and perfection. And here it is worth our 
observation, that all beasts and birds of prey are won- 
derfully subject to anger, malice, revenge, and all 
other violent passions that may animate them in search 
of their proper food; as those that are incapable of 
defending themselves, or annoying others, or whose 
safety lies chiefly in their flight, are suspicious, fear- 
ful, and apprehensive of every thing they see or hear; 
whilst others, that are of assistance and use to man, 
have their natures softened with something mild and 
tractable, and by that means are qualified for domes- 
tic life. In this case, the passions generally corres- 
pond with the make of the body. We do not find the 
fury of a lion in so weak and defenceless an animal as 
a lamb, nor the meekness of a lamb in a creature 
so armed for battle and assault as the lion. In the 
same manner we find that particular animals have 
a more or less exquisite sharpness and sagacity in 
those particular senses which most turn to their ad- 
vantage, and in which their safety and welfare is the 
most concerned. 

Nor must we here omit that great variety of arms 
with which Nature has diflferently fortified the bodies 
of several kinds of animals ; such as claws, hoofs, 
horns, teeth, and tusks, a tail, a sting, a trunk, or a 
proboscis. It is likewise observed by naturalists, that 
it must be some hidden principle, distinct from what 
we call reason, which instructs animals in the use of 
these their arms, and teaches them to manage them 
to the best advantage; because they naturally de- 
fend themselves with that part in which their strength 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 211 

lies, before Ihe weapon be formed in it; as is remark- 
able in lambs, which, though they are bred within 
doors, and never saw the actions of their own species, 
push at those who approach them, with their foreheads, 
before the first budding of a horn appears. 

I shall add to these general observations an in- 
stance, which Mr. Locke has given us, of Providence 
even in the imperfections of a creature which seems 
the meanest and most despicable in the whole animal 
world. ** We may," says he, ''from the make of an 
oyster or cockle, conclude, that it has not so many 
nor so quick senses as a man, or several other ani- 
mals: nor, if it had, would it, in that state and inca- 
pacity of transferring itself from one place to another, 
be bettered by them. What good would sight and 
hearing do to a creature, that cannot move itself to or 
from the object, wherein at a distance it perceives 
good or evil? And would not quickness of sensation 
be an inconvenience to an animal that must be still 
w^here chance has once placed it, and there receive 
the afflux of colder or warmer, clean or foul water, as 
it happens to come to it.^" 

I shall add to this instance out of Mr. Locke ano- 
ther out of the learned Dr. More, who cites it from 
Cardan, in relation to another animal which Provi- 
dence has left defective, but at the same time has 
shown its wisdom in the formation of that organ in 
which it seems chiefly to have failed. ''What is 
more obvious and ordinary than a mole ? and yet 
what more palpable argument of Providence than 
she ? — the members of her body are so exactly fitted to 
her nature and manner of life: for her dwelling under 
ground where nothing is to be seen, Nature has so 
obscurely fitted her with eyes, that naturalists can 



212 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 

scarce agree whether she have any sight at all, or 
no. But for amends, what she is capable of for her 
defence and warning of danger, she has very emi- 
nently conferred upon her; for she is exceedingly 
quick of hearing. And then her short tail and short 
legs, but broad fore feet armed with sharp claws; we 
see by the event to what purpose they are, she so 
swiftly working herself under ground, and making her 
way so fast in the earth as they that behold it cannot 
but admire it. Her legs therefore are short, that she 
need dig no more than will serve the mere thickness 
of her body; and her fore feet are broad that she may 
scoop away much earth at a time; and little or no tail 
she has, because she courses it not on the ground, like 
the rat or mouse, of whose kindred she is; but lives 
under the earth, and is fain to dig herself a dwelling 
there. And she making her way through so thick an 
element, which will not yield easily, as the air or the 
water, it had been dangerous to have drawn so long 
a train behind her; for her enemy might fall upon her 
rear, and fetch her out, before she had completed or 
got full possession of her works." 

I cannot forbear mentioning Mr. Boyle's remark 
upon this last creature, who, I remember, somewhere 
in his works observes, that though the mole be not 
totally blind, (as it is commonly thought,) she has 
not sight enough to distinguish particular objects. 
Her eye is said to have but one humour in it, which 
is supposed to give her the idea of light but of 
nothing else, and is so formed that this idea is prob- 
ably painful to the animal. Whenever she comes up 
into broad day she might be in danger of being taken, 
unless she were thus affected by a light striking upon 
her eye, and immediately warning her to bury herself 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 213 

in her proper element. More sight would be useless 
to her, as none at all might be fatal, 

I have only instanced such animals as seem the 
most imperfect works of nature; and if Providence 
shows itself even in the blemishes of these creatures, 
how much more does it discover itself in the several 
<3ndowments which it has variously bestowed upon 
such creatures as are more or less finished and com- 
pleted in their several faculties, according to the con- 
dition of ii^e in which they are posted! 

I could wish our Royal Society would compile a 
body of natural history, the best that could be gathered 
together from books and observations. If the several 
writers among them took each his particular species, 
and gave us a distinct account of its original, birth, 
and education; its policies, hostilities, and alliances; 
with the frame and texture of its inward and outward 
parts, and particularly those that distinguish it from 
all other animals, with its peculiar aptitudes for the 
state of being in which Providence has placed it; 
it would be one of the best services their studies could 
do mankind, and not a little redound to the glory of 
the all-wise Contriver, 

It is true, such a natural history, after ali the dis- 
quisitions of the learned, would be infinitely short and 
defective. Seas and deserts hide millions of animals 
from our observation. Innumerable artifices and 
stratagems are acted in the ''howling wilderness'' 
and in the *' great deep," that can never come to our 
knowledge. Besides that there are infinitely mere 
species of creatures which are not to be seen without, 
nor indeed with the help of the finest glasses, than of 
such as are bulky enough for the naked eye to take 
hold of. However, from the consideration of such 
18 



( 



214 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 

animals as lie within the compass of our knowiedgc^ 
we might easily form a conclusion of the rest, that the 
same variety of wisdom and goodness runs through 
the whole creation, and puts every creature in a con- 
dition to provide for its safety and subsistence in its 
proper station. 



Ex. XV, 
Good'JVatiire. — Addison. 

There is nothing which we ought more to encour- 
age in ourselves and others, than that disposition of 
mind which in our language goes under the title of 
good-nature. 

Good-nature is more agreeable in conversation than 
wit, and gives a certain air to the countenance which 
is more amiable than beauty. It shows virtue in the 
fairest light, takes off, in some measure, from the de- 
formity of vice, and makes even folly and imperti- 
nence supportable. 

There is no society or conversation to be kept up in 
the world without good-nature, or something which 
must bear its appearance, and supply its place. For 
this reason mankind have been forced to invent a kind 
of artificial humanity, which is what we express by 
the word good-breeding. For if we examine thor- 
oughly the idea of what we call so, we shall find it to 
be nothing else but an imitation and mimicry of 
good-nature, or, in other terms, affability, complai- 
sance, and easiness of temper, reduced into ah art. 

These exterior shows and appearances of humanity 
render a man wonderfully popular and beloved, when 



MISCELLANEOaS EXERCISES. 215 

they are founded upon a real good-nature; but, with- 
out it, are like hypocrisy in religion, or a bare form 
of holiness, which, when it is discovered, makes a 
man more detestable than professed impiety. 

Good-nature is generally born with us : health, 
prosperity, and kind treatment from the world, are 
great cherishers of it where they find it; but nothing 
is capable of forcing it up, where it does not grow of 
itself. It is one of the blessings of a happy constitu- 
tion, which education may improve, but not produce, 

Xenophon, in the life of his imaginary prince, whom 
he describes as a pattern for real ones, is always cele- 
brating the philanthropyj or good-nature, of his hero, 
which he tells us he brought into the world with him; 
and gives many remarkable instances of it in his 
childhood, as well as in all the several parts of his 
life. Nay, on his deathbed, he describes him as being 
pleased, that while his soul returned to Him who 
made it, his body should incorporate with the great 
mother of all things, and by that means become bene- 
ficial to mankind. For which reason he gives his 
sons a positive order not to enshrine it in gold or 
silver, but to lay it in the earth as soon as the life was 
gone out of it. 

An instance of such an overflowing of humanity, 
such an exuberant love to mankind, could not have 
entered into the imagination of a writer, who had not 
a soul filled with great ideas, and a general benevo- 
lence to mankind. 

In that celebrated passage of Sallust, where Caesar 
and Cato are placed in such beautiful but opposite 
lights, Caesar's character is chiefly made up of good- 
nature, as it showed itself in all its forms towards his 
friends or his enemies, his servants or dependants, the 



216 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 

guilty or the distressed. As for Cato^s character, k 
is rather awful than amiable. Justice seems the most 
agreeable to the nature of God, and mercy to that of 
man. A being, who has nothing to pardon in him- 
self, may reward every man according to his works; 
but he w4iose very best actions must be seen with 
grains of allowance, cannot be too mild, moderate/ 
and forgiving. For this reason, among all the mon- 
strous characters in human nature, there is none so 
odious, nor indeed so exquisitely ridiculous, as that 
of a rigid, severe temper in a worthless man. 

This part of good-nature, however, which consists 
in the pardoning and overlooking of faults, is to be 
exercised only in doing ourselves justice, and that too 
in the ordinary commerce and occurrences of life ; 
for in the public administrations of justice, mercy to 
one may be cruelty to others. 

It is grown almost into a maxim, that good-natured 
men are not always men of the most wit. This ob- 
servation, in my opinion, has no foundation in nature. 
The greatest wits I have conversed with are men emi- 
nent for their humanity. I take, therefore, this re- 
mark to have been occasioned by two reasons. First, 
because ill-nature, among ordinary observers, passes 
for wit. A spiteful saying gratifies so many little pas- 
sions in those who hear it, that it generally meets with 
a good reception. The laugh rises upon it, and the 
man who utters it, is looked upon as a shrewd satirist. 
This may be one reason why a great many pleasant 
companions appear so surprisingly dull, when they 
have endeavoured to be merry in print; the public 
being more just than private clubs or assemblies, in 
distinguishing between what is wit, and what is ill-^ 
nature. 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 217 

Another reason why the good-natured man may 
sometimes bring his wit in question, is, perhaps, be- 
cause he is apt to be moved with compassion for those 
misfortunes or infirmities which another would turn 
into ridicule, and by that means gain the reputation 
of a wit. The ill-natured man, though but of equal 
parts, gives himself a larger field to expatiate in; he 
exposes those failings in human nature which the 
other would cast a veil over, laughs at vices which 
the other either excuses or conceals, gives utterance 
to reflections which the other stifles, falls indifferently 
upon friends or enemies, exposes the person who has 
obliged him, and, in short, sticks at nothing that may 
establish his character of a wit. It is no w^onder, 
therefore, he succeeds in it better than the man of 
humanity; as a person who makes use of indirect 
methods, is more likely to grow rich than the fair 
trader. 



Ex. XVL 
Witchcraft. — Addison. 

There are some opinions in which a man should 
stand neuter, without engaging his assent to one side 
or the other. Such a hovering faith as this, which re- 
fuses to settle upon any determination, is absolutely 
necessary in a mind that is careful to avoid errors 
and prepossessions. When the arguments press 
equally on both sides, in matters that are indifferent 
to us, the safest method is to give up ourselves to 
neither. 

It is with this temper of mind that I consider the 
18* 



I 



218 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 

subject of witchcraft. When I hear the relations that 
are made from all parts of the world, not only from 
Norway and Lapland, from the East and West Indies, 
but from every particular nation in Europe, I cannot 
forbear thinking that there is such an intercourse and 
commerce with evil spirits, as that which we express 
by the name of witchcraft. But when I consider that^ 
the ignorant and credulous parts of the world abound 
most in these relations, and that the persons among 
us, who are supposed to engage in such an infernal 
commerce, are people of a weak understanding and 
crazed imagination, and at the same time reflect upon 
the many impostures and delusions of this nature that 
have been detected in all ages, I endeavour to sus- 
pend my belief till I hear more certain accounts than 
any which have yet come to my knowledge. In short, 
when I consider the question, whether there are such 
persons in the world as those we call witches, my 
mind is divided between the two opposite opinions, 
or rather, (to speak my thoughts freely,) I believe in 
general that there is, and has been such a thing as 
witchcraft; but at the same time can give no credit 
to any particular instance of it. 

I am engaged in this speculation by some occur- 
rences that I met with yesterday, which I shall give 
my reader an account of at large. As I was walking 
with my friend Sir Roger by the side of one of his 
W'oods, an old woman applied herself to me for my 
charity. Her dress and figure put me in mind of the 
following description in Otway: 

'* In a close lane as I pursued my journey^ 
I spied a wrinkled hag, with age grown double, 
Picking dry sticks, and mumbling to herself. 
Her eyes with scalding rheum were gall'd and red; 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 219 

Cold palsy shook her head; her hands seem'd withered; 
And on her crooked shoulders had she wrapt 
The tatter'd remnant of an old striped hanging, 
Which served to keep her carcass from the cold: 
So there was nothing of a piece about her. 
Her lower weeds were all o'er coarsely patch'd 
With different colour'd rags, black, red, white, yellow, 
And seem'd to speak variety of wretchedness." 

As I was musing on this description, and comparing 
it with the object before me, the knight told me, that 
this very old woman had the reputation of a witch all 
over the country, that her lips were observed to be 
always in motion, and that there was not a switch 
about her house which her neighbours did not believe 
had carried her several hundreds of miles. If she 
chanced to stumble, they always found sticks or straws 
that lay in the figure of a cross before her. If she 
made any mistake at church, and cried Amen in a 
wrong place, they never failed to conclude that she 
was saying her prayers backwards. There was not 
a maid in the parish that would take a pin of her, 
though she should offer a bag of money with it. She 
goes by the name of Moll White, and has made the 
country ring with several imaginary exploits which 
are palmed upon her. If the dairy maid does not 
make her butter to come so soon as she would have 
it, Moll White is at the bottom of the churn. If a 
horse sweats in the stable, Moll White has been upon 
his back. If a hare makes an unexpected escape from 
the hounds, the huntsman curses Moll White. ''Nay," 
says Sir Roger, ' ' I have known the master of the pack, 
upon such an occasion, send one of his servants to see 
if Moll White had been out that morning." 

This account raised my curiosity so far, that I beg- 



220 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 

ged my friend Sir Roger to go with me into her hovel^ 
which stood in a solitary corner under the side of the 
%vood. Upon our first entering. Sir Roger winked to 
me, and pointed at something that stood behind the 
door, which, upon looking that way, I found to be an 
old broomstaff. At the same time he whispered me 
in the ear to take notice of a tabby cat that sat in the 
chimney corner, which, as the old knight told me, 
lay under as bad a report as Moll White herself; 
for besides that Moll is said often to accompany her 
in the same shape, the cat is reported to have spoken 
twice or thrice in her life, and to have played sev- 
eral pranks above the capacity of an ordinary cat. 

I was secretly concerned to see human nature in 
so much wretchedness and disgrace, but at the same 
time could not forbear smiling to hear Sir Roger, who 
is a little puzzled about the old woman, advising her 
as a justice of peace to avoid all communication with 
the devil, and never to hurt any of her neighbours' 
cattle. We concluded our visit with a bounty, which 
was very acceptable. 

In our return home, Sir Roger told me, that old 
Moll had been often brought before him for making 
children spit pins, and giving maids the nightmare; 
and that the country people would be tossing her into 
a pond, and trying experiments with her everyday, 
if it was not for him and his chaplain. 

I have since found upon inquiry, that Sir Roger 
was several times staggered with the reports that had 
been brought him concerning this old woman, and 
would frequently have bound her over to the county 
sessions, had not his chaplain with much ado per- 
suaded him to the contrary. 

I have been the more particular in this account, 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 221 

because I hear there is scarce a village in England 
that has not a Moll White in it. When an old woman 
begins to dote, and grow chargeable to a parish, she 
is generally turned into a witch, and fills the whole 
country with extravagant fancies, imaginary distem- 
pers, and terrifying dreams. In the mean time, the 
poor wretch that is the innocent occasion of so many 
evils begins to be frightened at herself, and sometimes 
confesses secret commerces and familiarities that her 
imagination forms in a delirious old age. This fre- 
quently cuts off charity from the greatest objects of 
compassion, and inspires people w4th a malevolence 
towards those poor decrepid parts of our species, in 
whom human nature is defaced by infirmity and dotage. 



Ex. XVII, 

Ship by Moonlight. — Wilson, 

It is the midnight hour: — the beauteous Sea, 

Calm as the cloudless heaven, the heaven discloses, 

While many a sparkling star, in quiet glee, 

Far down within the watery sky reposes. 

As if the Ocean's breast were stirr'd 

With inw^ard life, a sound is heard, 

Like that of dreamer murmuring in his sleep; 

'Tis partly the billow, and partly the air 

That lies like a garment floating fair 

Above the happy deep. 

The sea, I ween, cannot be fann'd 

By evening freshness from the land, 

For the land it is far away; 

But God hath will'd that the sky-born breeze. 



222 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 

In the centre of the loneliest sea, 

Should ever sport and play. 

The mighty moon she sits above, 

Encircled with a zone of love, 

A zone of dim and tender light 

That makes her wakeful eye more bright: 

She seems to shine with a sunny ray, 

And the night looks like a mellowed day I 

The gracious Mistress of the Main 

Hath now an undisturbed reign, 

xAnd from her silent throne looks down, 

As upon children of her own, 

On the waves that lend their gentle breast 

In gladness for her couch of rest. 

^rafc ^ :^ ^ ^ ^ gp 

And lo! upon the murmuring waves 
A glorious Shape appearing, 
A broad-wing'd vessel, through the shower 
Of glimmering^ lustre steering! 
As if the beauteous ship enjoyed 
The beauty of the sea. 
She lifteth up her stately head, 
And saileth joyfully. 
A lovely path before her lies, 
A lovely path behind: 
She sails amid the loveliness 
Like a thing with heart and mind. 
Fit pilgrim through a scene so fair, 
Slowly she beareth on; 
A glorious phantom of the deep, 
Risen up to meet the moon. 
The moon bids her tenderest radiance fall 
On her wavy streamer and snow-white wings; 
And the quiet voice of the rocking sea 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 223 

To cheer the gliding vision sings. 

Oh! ne'er did sky and water blend 

In such a holy sleep, 

Or bathe in brighter quietude 

A roamer of the deep. 

So far the peaceful soul of Heaven 

Hath settled on the sea, 

It seems as if this weight of calm 

Were from eternity. 

O World of Waters! the steadfast Earth 

Ne'er lay entranced like Thee! 

Is she a vision wild and bright, 
That sails amid the still moonlight 
At the dreaming soul's command.'* 
A vessel borne by magic gales, 
All rigg'd with gossamery sails, 
And bound for Fairy-land t 
Ah! no: — an earthly freight she bears, 
Of joys and sorrows, hopes and fears; 
And lonely as she seems to be, 
Thus left by herself on the moonlight sea 
In loneliness that rolls, 
She hath a constant company, 
In sleep or waking revelry. 
Five hundred human souls! 
Since first she sail'd from fair England, 
Three moons her path have cheered; 
And another lights her lovelier lamp 
Since the Cape hath disappeared. 
For an Indian isle she shapes her way : 
With constant wind, both night and day, 
She seems to hold her home in view, 
And sails as if the path she knew; 
So calm and stately is her motion 
Across the unfathom'd pathless ocean. 



224 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 

Ex. XVIII. 

Thoughts at Sunrise. — Anonymous. 

Gloria Patri!^ — 'tis the hour of prime, 
And praise and adoration; — 'tis the hour, 

Father of Mercies! when on wings sublime, 
The spirit of the day shows forth thy power, 

Rising in joy and glory o'er each clime, 

Shedding new life on creature, plant and flower. 

Gloria Patri! worm although I be, 

I'll bow my spirit here in pr^ayer to thee. 

On the lone heath-hill, while the sweet bird's hymn 

Commingles with my worship, and afar 
Fades on my sight night's ebon diadem. 

Wends on the vesper-wave each sister star 
Her pearly path, and struggling through the dim 

Twilight, where slept the moon in opal car, 
Nature arises, fresh in dewy bloom. 

Like renovated beauty from the tomb. 

Gloria Patri! — 'tis the hour of prime, 
And peace and purity, ere yet the sun 

Has sickened at the sight of care and crime. 
Or man his daily brow-dewed toil begun; — 

Gloria Patri! 'tis the hallowed time 
Most genial to the pure soul's orison, 

When all thy creatures, over earth and sea, 

Should raise one universal hymn to thee! 

And in my wandering, spirit of the day! 
- Oft have I blessed its beaming o'er the Rhine, 

* " Glory to the Father." 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 225 

Or glancing thro' the sable forest's spray, 
Or lighting up the Jungfrau's brow divine, 

While mountain, lake, and city 'neath me lay, 
And friendship's arm was fondly locked in mine. 

Rent in the dust my harp and hand must be 

Ere cease their thrillings, sweetest hour, to thee. 

Gloria Patri! when the unsetting sun, 

**The Sun of Righteousness," comes forth in 
powder 
And mercy — when the earth her task has done, 

And crime and death shall vanish as this hour 
Scatters the gloom — oh! may each loved one 

Meet us again in Heaven's all tearless bower. 
And lift our souls, from sins and sorrows free, 
Gloria Patri! there in praise to thee! 

Ex. XIX. 

Forest Hymn. — Bryant. 

Father, thy hand, 

Hath rear'd these venerable columns, thou 

Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look 

down 
Upon the naked earth, and, forthwith, rose 
All these fair ranks of trees. They, in thy sun, 
Budded, and shook their green leaves in thy breeze, 
And shot towards heaven. The century-living crow, 
Whose birth was in their tops, grew old and died 
Among their branches, till, at last, they stood, 
As now they stand, massy and tall and dark, 
Fit shrine for humble worshipper to hold 
Communion with his Maker. 
19 



*226 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES, 

Thou art in the soft winds 
That run along the summits of these trees 
In music; — thou art in the cooler breath, 
That, from the inmost darkness of the place, 
Comes, scarcely felt; — the barky trunks, the ground,. 
The fresh moist ground, are all instinct with thee. 
Here is continual worship; — nature, here, 
In the tranquillity that thou dost love, 
Enjoys thy presence. Noiselessly, around. 
From perch to perch, the solitary bird 
Passes; and yon clear spring, that, ^midst its herbs^ 
Wells softly forth, and visits the strong roots 
Of half the mighty forest, tells no tale 
Of all the good it does. Thou hast not left 
Thyself without a witness, m these shades. 
Of thy perfections. Grandeur, strength, and grace^ 
Are here to speak of thee. This mighty oak — 
By whose immovable stem I stand and seem 
Almost annihilated — not a prince, 
In all the proud old world beyond the deep, 
E'er wore his crown as loftily as he 
Wears tbe green coronal of leaves with which 
Thy hand has graced him. Nestled at his root 
Is beauty, such as blooms not in the glare 
Of the broad sun. That delicate forest flower,. 
With scented breath, and look so like a smile, 
Seems, as it issues from the shapeless mould, 
An emanation of the indwelling Life, 
A visible token of the upholding Love, 
That are the soul of this wide universe. 

My heart is awed within me, when I think 
Of the great miracle that still goes on, 
In silence, round me — the perpetual work 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES, 227 

Of thy creation, finished, yet renewed 
Forever. Written on thy works I read 
The lesson of thy own eternity. 
Lo! all grow old and die — but see, again, 
How OH the faltering footsteps af decay 
Youth presses— ever gay and beautiful youth 
In all its beautiful forfns. These lofty trees 
Wave not less proudly that their ancestors 
Moulder beneath them. Oh! there is not lost 
One of earth^s charms: upon her bosom yet. 
After the flight of untold centuries, 
The freshness of her far beginning lies 
And yet shall lie. Life mocks the idle hate 
Of his arch enemy Death — yea — seats himself 
Upon the sepulchre, and blooms and smiles, 
And of the triumphs of his ghastly foe 
Makes kis own nourishment. For he came forth 
From thine own bosom, and shall have no end. 



Let me often to these solitudes 
Retire, and in thy presence reassure 
My feeble viKue. Here its enemies, 
The passions, at thy plainer footsteps shrink, 
And tremble, and are slill. O God! when thou 
Dost scare the world with tempests, sett'st on fire 
The heavens with falling thunderbolts, or fiU'st 
With all the waters of the firmament 
The swift dark whirlwind that uproots the woods, 
And drowns the villages; when, at thy call, 
Uprises the great deep, and throws himself 
Upon the continent, and overwhelms 
Its cities — who forgets not, at the sight 
Of these tremendous tokens of thy power, 



228 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 

His pride, and lays his strifes and follies by? 
Oh! from these sterner aspects of thy face 
Spare me and mine, nor let us need the wrath 
Of the mad unchain'd elements to teach 
Who rules them. Be it ours to meditate 
In these calm shades thy milder majesty. 
And, to the beautiful order of thy works, 
Learn to conform the order of our lives. 



Ex. XX. 

Creation of Light, the Sun, and the Moon. — Milton. - 

*'Let there be Light," said God; and forthwith 
light 
Ethereal, first of things, quintessence pure, 
Sprung from the deep; and from her native east 
To journey through the airy gloom began, 
Spher'd in a radiant cloud, for yet the sun 
Was not; she in a cloudy tabernacle 
Sojourn'd the while. 

Thus was the first day even and morn: 
Nor past uncelebrated, nor unsung 
By the celestial quires, when orient light 
Exhaling first from darkness they beheld; 
Birth-day of Heaven and Earth; with joy and shout 
The hollow universal orb they fill'd, 
And touch'd their golden harps, and hymning 

prais'd 
God and his works; Creator him they sung, 
Both when first evening was, and when first morn. 

God saw, 
Surveying his great work, that it was good. 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 



229 



For of celestial bodies first the Sua 
A mighty sphere he fram'd, unlightsome first, 
Though of ethereal mould: then formM the Moon 
Globose^ an<i every magnitude of stars, 
And sow'd with stars the Heaven, thick as a iScld. 
Of light by far the greater part he took, 
Transplanted from her cloudy shrine, and plac'd 
In the Sun's orb, made porous to receive 
And drink the liquid light; iSrm to retain 
Her gather'd beams, great palace now of light. 
Hither, as to their fountain, other stars 
Repairing, in their golden urns draw light, 
And hence the morning planet gilds her horns; 
By tincture or reflection they augment 
Their small peculiar, though from human sight 
So far remote, with diminution seen. 
First in his east the glorious lamp was seen, 
Regent of day! and all the horizon round 
Invested with bright rays, jocund to run 
His longitude through Heaven's high road ; the gray 
Dawn and itie Pleiades before him danc'd, 
Shedding sweet infliience: less bright the Moon, 
But opposite in levell'd west was set, 
His mirror, with full face borrowing her light 
From him ; for other light she needed none 
Ir\ that aspect, and still that distance keeps 
Till night ; then in the east her tarn she shines, 
Revolv'd on Heaven's great axle, and her reign 
With thousand lesser lights dividual holds, 
With thousand thoiasand ^ars, that then appeared 
Spangling the hemisphere: then first adornM 
With their bright luminaries that set and rose. 
Glad evening and glad morn crown'd the fourth day. 
1^* 



230 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 



Ex. XXI. 

Scene from Comus, — Milton. 

Enter to the Brothers the Attendant Spirit, habited like the 
shepherd Thyrsis, and relates how their sister, whom they had 
lost in the forest, had fallen into the power of Comus. 

Younger Br, O Brother, 'tis my father's shepherd 
sure ! 

Elder Br. Thyrsis? Whose artful strains have 
oft delayed 
The huddling brook to hear his madrigal, 
And sweetened every muskrose of the dale.^ 
How cam'st thou here, good swain.'* hath any ram 
vSlipt from the fold, or young kid lost his dam. 
Or straggling wether the pent flock forsook ?- 
How could'st thou find this dark sequester'd nook? 

Spir, O my lov'd master's heir, and his next joy 5 
I came not here on such a trivial toy 
As a stray 'd ewe, or to pursue the stealth 
Of pilfering wolf; not all the fleecy wealth, 
That doth enrich these downs, is worth a thought 
To this my errand, and the care it brought. 
But, oh! my virgin Lady, where is she? 
How chance she is not in your company ? 

EL Br, To tell thee sadly, Shepherd, without 
blame. 
Or our neglect, we lost her as we came. 

Spir. Ay me unhappy! then my fears are true. 

El, Br, What fears, good Thyrsis? Pr'ythee 
briefly shew. 

Spir, Within the navel of this hideous wood, 
Immur'd in Cyprus shades a sorcerer dwells, 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 231 

Of Bacchus and of Circe born, great Comus, 

Deep skill'd in all his mother's witcheries; 

And here to every thirsty wanderer 

By sly enticement gives his baneful cup, 

With many murmurs mix'd, whose pleasing poison 

The visage quite transforms of him that drinks, 

And the inglorious likeness of a beast 

Fixes instead, unmoulding reason's mintage 

Character'd in the face: this have I learnt 

Tending my flocks hard by i' the hilly crofts, 

That brow this bottom-glade ; whence night by night 

He and his monstrous rout are heard to howl, 

Like stabled wolves, or tigers at their prey. 

Doing abhorred rites to Hecate 

In their obscured haunts of inmost bowers. 

Yet have they many baits, and guileful spells, 

To inveigle and invite the unwary sense 

Of them that pass unweeting by the way. 

This evening late, by then the chewing flocks 

Had ta'en their supper on the savoury herb 

Of knot-grass dew-besprent, and were in fold, 

I sat me down to watch upon a bank 

With ivy canopied, and interwove 

With flaunting honeysuckle, and began, 

Wrapt in a pleasing lit of melancholy. 

To meditate my rural minstrelsy 

Till Fancy had her fill; but, ere a close, 

The wonted roar was up amidst the woods. 

And fiird the air with barbarous dissonance; 

At which I ceas'd, and listen'd them a while, 

Till an unusual stop of sudden silence 

Gave respite to the drowsy-flighted steeds. 

That draw the litter of close-curtain 'd Sleep: 

At last a soft and solemn-breathing sound 



232 MISCELLANiiOUS EXERCISES. 

Rose like a steam of rich distilled perfumes, 

And stole upon the air, that even Silence 

Was took ere she was ware, and wish'd she might 

Deny her nature, and be never more, 

Still to be so displac'd. I was all ear, 

And took in strains that might create a soul 

Under the ribs of Death! but oh! ere long, 

Too well I did perceive it was the voice 

Of my most honour'd Lady, your dear Sister. 

Amaz'd I stood, harrow'd with grief and fear, 

And, O poor hapless nightingale, thought I, 

How sweet thou sing'st, how near the deadly snare! 

Then down the lawns I ran with headlong haste, 

Through paths and turnings often trod by day, 

Till, guided by mine ear, I found the place. 

Where that curs'd wisard, hid in sly disguise^ 

(For so by certain signs I knew,) had met 

Already, ere my best speed could prevent, 

The aidless innocent Lady, his wish'd prey; 

Who gently ask'd if he had seen such two. 

Supposing him some neighbour villager. 

Longer I durst not stay, but soon I guess'd 

Ye were the two she meant; with that I sprung 

Into swift flight, till I had found you here; 

But further know I not. 

EL Br. Come, let's on. 
Against the opposing will and arm of Heaven 
May never this just sword be lifted up; 
But for that curs'd magician, let him be girt 
With all the grisly legions that troop 
Under the sooty flag of Acheron, 
Harpies and Hydras, or all the monstrous forms 
'Twixt Africa and Ind, Pll find him out, 
And force him to return his purchase back, 



I 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 233 

Or drag him by the curls to a foul death, 

Curs'd as his life. Thyrsis, lead on apace, Til 

follow thee; 
And some good Angel bear a shield before us! 



Ex. XXII. 

Downfall of Richard II. — Shakspeare. 

The duke, great Bolingbroke, — 
Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed, 
Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know, — 
With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course, 
While all tongues cried — God save thee, Bolingbroke! 
You would have thought the very windows spake, 
So many greedy looks of young and old 
Through casements darted their desiring eyes 
Upon his visage; and that all the walls, 
With painted imagery, had said at once 
Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke! 
Whilst he, from one side to the other turning, 
Bare-headed, lower than his proud steed's neck, 
Bespake them thus, — I thank you, countrymen: 
And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. 

As in a theatre, the eyes of men, 
After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage, 
Are idly bent on him that enters next, 
Thinking his prattle to be tedious: 
Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes 
Did scowl on Richard; no man cried, God save him; 
No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home: 
But dust was thrown upon his sacred head; 
Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off, — 



234 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 

His face still combating with tears and smiles, 

The badges of his grief and patience, — 

That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd 

The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, 

And barbarism itself have pitied him. 

But heaven hath a hand in these events; 

To whose high will we bound our calm contents. 

Ex. XXIII. 
Scene from King John, — Shakspeare. 

Enter the legate Pandulph, to Lewis the Dauphin, &c. — Lewis 
having, at the command of the Pope, invaded England. 

Pand. Hail, noble Prince of France! 
The next is this, — king John hath reconcil'd 
Himself to Rome; his spirit is come in, 
That so stood out against the holy church, 
The great metropolis and see of Rome: 
Therefore, thy threatning colours now wind up, 
And tame the savage spirit of wild war; 
That, like a lion foster'd up at hand. 
It may lie gently at the foot of peace. 
And be no further harmful than in show. 

Lew, Your grace shall pardon me, I will not back; 
I am too high-born to be propertied, 
To be a secondary at control. 
Or useful serving-man, and instrument. 
To any sovereign state throughout the world. 
Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars 
Between this chastis'd kingdom and myself. 
And brought in matter that should feed this fire; 
And now 'tis far too huge to be blown out 
With that same weak wind which enkindled it. 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 235 

You taught me how to know the face of right, 

Acquainted me with interest to this land, 

Yea, thrust this enterprise into my heart; 

And come you now to tell me, John hath made 

His peace with Rome? What is that peace to me? 

I, by the honour of my marriage-bed, 

After young Arthur, claim this land for mine; 

And, now it is half conquered, must I back. 

Because that John hath made his peace with Rome? 

Am I Rome's slave? What penny hath Rome borne. 

What men provided, what munition sent, 

To underprop this action? Is't not I, 

That undergo this charge? Who else but I, 

And such as to my claim are liable. 

Sweat in this business, and maintain this war? 

Have I not heard these islanders shout out, 

Vive le rot! as I have bank'd their towns? 

Have I not here the best cards for the game, 

To win this easy match play'd for a crown? 

And shall I now give o'er the yielded set? 

No, on my soul, it never shall be said. 

Pand, You look but on the outside of this work. 
Lew, Outside or inside, I will not return 
Till my attempt so much be glorified 
As to my ample hope was promised 
Before I drew this gallant head of war. 
And cuU'd these fiery spirits from the werld, 
To outlook conquest, and to win renown 
Even in the jaws of danger and of death. — [Trumpet. 
What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us? 

Enter Faulconbridge attended. 
Fau, According to the fair play of the world, 
Let nie have audience; I am sent to speak: 



236 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 

My holy lord of Milan,* from the king 
I come, to learn how you have dealt for him; 
And, as you answer, I do know the scope 
And warrant limited unto my tongue. 

Pand, The Dauphin is too wilful-opposite, 
And will not temporise with my entreaties; 
He flatly says, he'll not lay down his arms. 

Fau, By all the blood that ever fury breath'd, 
The youth says well: — Now hear our English king; 
For thus his royalty doth speak in me. 
He is prepared; and reason too, he should: 
This apish and unmannerly approach, 
This harness'd masque, and unadvised revel, 
This unhair'd sauciness, and boyish troops, 
The king doth smile at; and is well prepared 
To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms, 
From out the circle of his territories. 
That hand, which had the strength, even at your door, 
To cudgel you and make you take the hatch; 
To dive, like buckets, in concealed wells; 
To crouch in litter of your stable planks; 
To lie, like pawns, lock'd up in chests and trunks; 
To hug with swine; to seek sweet safety out 
In vaults and prisons; 
Shall that victorious hand be feebled here. 
That in your chambers gave you chastisement? 
No: Know, the gallant monarch is in arms; 
And like an eagle o'er his aiery powers. 
To souse annoyance that comes near his nest. — 
And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts, 
You bloody Neros, blush for shame: 
For your own ladies, and pale-visag'd maids, 

* Pandalph. 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 237 

Like Amazons, come tripping after drums; 
Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change, 
Their neelds to lances, and their gentle hearts 
To fierce and bloody inclination. 

Leiv. There end thy brave, and turn thy face in 
peace; 
We grant, thou canst outscold us: fare thee well; 
We hold our time too precious to be spent 
With such a brabbler, 

Pand, Give me leave to speak. 

Fail. No, I will speak. 

Lew. We will attend to neither: — • 
Strike up the drums; and let the tongue of v/ar 
Plead for our interest, and our being here. 

Fan. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will cry 
out; 
And so shall you, being beaten: Do but start 
An echo with the clamour of thy drum. 
And even at hand a drum is ready brac'd, 
That shall reverberate ail as loud as thine; 
Sound but another, and another shall, 
As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear. 
And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder; for at hand, 
(Not trusting to this halting legate here, 
Whom he hath us'd rather for sport than need,) 
Is warlike John; and in his forehead sits 
A bare-ribb'd death, whose office is this day 
To feast upon whole thousands of the French. 

Lew. Strike up our drums, to find this danger out^ 

Fan. And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do not doubt. 
16 



238 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 

Ex. XXIV. 

Scene from Lovers Labour^ s Lost. — Shakspeare. 

Moth, a witty page; Armado, a fantastic nobleman; Costard, a 
roguish clown, who has been imprisoned. 

Moth, A wonder, master ; here's a Costard"^ 
broken in a shin. 

Arm, Some enigma, some riddle : come, — thy 
V envoy \'\ — begin. 

Cost, No egma, no riddle, no V envoy; no salve in 
the mail, J sir: O sir, plantain,^ a plain plantain; no 
Venvoy, no Venvoy, no salve, sir, but a plantain! 

Arm. By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; thy silly 
thought my spleen: the heaving of my lungs provokes 
me to ridiculous smiling: Oh, pardon me, my stars! 
Doth the inconsiderate take salve for Venvoy, and the 
word, Venvoy, for a salve .^ 

Moth. Do the wise think them other? is not Venvoy 
a salve ? 

Arm, No, Page: it is an epilogue or discourse, to 
make plain 
Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain. 
I will example it: 

* The word costard sometimes signifies head and apple, and is 
here used in a punning sense. 

t The r envoy is a term borrowed from the old French poetry. 
It appeared always at the head of a few concluding verses to each 
piece, which either served to convey the moral, or to address the 
poem to some particular person. It was frequently adopted by 
the ancient English writers. 

t Mail, packet or bag. 

§ A plantain leaf, used as a plaster for wounds. 



MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 239 

The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, 
Were still at odds, being but three. 
There's the moral: Now the Venvoij. 

Moth. I will add the V envoy: Say the moral againc 
Arm. The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, 

Were still at odds, being but three. 
Moth. Until the goose came out of door. 

And stay'd the odds by adding four. 
Now I will begin your moral, and do you follow with 
my V envoy. 

The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee. 
Were still at odds, being but three, 
Arm. Until the goose came out of door. 

Staying the odds by adding four. 
Moth. A good V envoy, ending in the goose; 
Would you desire more ? 

Cost. The boy hath sold him a bargain; a goose j 
that's flat: — 
Sir, your pennyworth is good, an your goose be fat. — 
To sell a bargain well, is as cunning as fast and loose: 
Let me see a fat V envoy ; ay, that's a fat goose. 

Arm. Come hither, come hither: How did this ar^ 

gument beorin? 
Moth. By saying, that a Costard was broken m a 

shin. 
Then call'd you for the Venvoy. 
Cost. True, and I for a plantain; Thus came your 

argument in; 
Then the boy's fat Venvoy, the goose that you bought; 
And he ended the market. 

Arm. But tell me; how was there a costard broken 
in a shin ? 

Moth. I will tell you sensibly. 



^40 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 

Cost. Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth ; I will 
speak that V envoy : — 

I, Costard, running out, that v/as safely within, 

Fell over the threshold, and broke my shin. 

*B:rm, Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise thee. 

Cost. Oh! marry me to one Frances; — I smell 
some Venvoy, some goose, in this. 

Arm. By my sweet soul, I mean, setting thee at 
liberty, enfreedoming thy person; thou wert immured, 
restrained, captivated, bound. I give thee thy lib- 
erty, set thee from durance; and, in lieu thereof, im- 
pose on thee nothing but this: Bear this significant^ 
to the country-maid Jaquenetta: there is remunera- 
tion; [^Giving him money ,'] for the best ward of mine 
honour, is, rewarding my dependents. Moth, follow. 

[Exit 

Moth. Like the sequel, | I. — Signior Costard, 

adieu! 

Cost. My sweet ounce of man's flesh ! [_Exit 
Moth.'] — Now will I look to his remuneration. Re- 
muneration! Oh! that's the Latin word for three far- 
things: three farthings — remuneration. — ^'fVhaVs the 
price of this inhleV ' ' A penny ;" — ' ' /Vb, Fll give you a 
remuneration:^' why, it carries it. Remuneration!— 
why, it is a fairer name than French crown. I will 
never buy and sell out of this word. 

* Letter. f A great man's train. 






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